


Shadow of Our Fathers

by saucyminx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 66,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucyminx/pseuds/saucyminx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they are young Sam and Dean meet because of a hunt. It’s an instant connection but life conspires to tear them apart. When they are brought back together by fate – things have changed so drastically there may be no chance for them. (non-brothers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John Winchester glanced quickly across the front seat of the Impala before whipping his arm out to cuff Sam lightly on the shoulder. "Stop fidgetin' boy - you're driving me insane."

"Okay," Sam huffed, "first of all teenagers fidget and I'm pretty sure you weren't hatched _old_ so I know you know that _and_ you're already insane." Sam grinned as he rolled his window down.

One of the only _good_ things about spending half his life in the car was this time of year. It was spring and the air was warm enough that his feet weren't freezing in the car and he could crank the window down for fresh air without his Dad bitching at him. Folding his arms under his chin, Sam leaned on the door, closed his eyes and let the wind blow his hair back off his face.

The last hunt had kind of kicked Sam's ass although there was no way he was going to admit that to his Dad. They had spent about three months arguing about whether or not Sam could quit school when he turned sixteen. His Dad's argument was always the same: hunting supernatural _shit_ was too dangerous for a sixteen year old, Sam should have a better life than his Dad did, school was important. Sam had been relentless. After all, hunting was what he knew. They had spent so much time moving from place to place that Sam never had a chance to make any friends, didn't join any teams, never handed in any of the papers and assignments he worked on.

When Sam's birthday had rolled around in May his Dad had finally given in. Sam's first hunt had been pretty routine. Salt and burn with a dash of fear thrown in when Sam had momentarily been knocked on his ass by a rather pissed off spirit. That night had kind of hit it all home for Sam and he realized what his Dad had been dealing with for so many years. And that spirit? It really hadn't been all that pissed off when it came right down to it. He didn't figure he was going to be missing much by not attending five or six different high schools over the course of the year.

They'd been hunting together for less than a month and Sam already had a nice scar across his cheek and a puckered looking stab wound on his forearm. The scar was from a flying kitchen knife and the stab wound was from a pissed off werewolf they'd encountered during its monthly change. Sam wasn't so scared of werewolves because it was him who managed to tag it with a silver bullet but he looked at screwdrivers in an entirely different light every time his eyes passed over the scar.

His Dad seemed pretty proud of Sam which felt good - so Sam sucked it up and didn't complain about how his muscles ached from all the exertion and the front seat of the car was too cramped for someone who was already over six feet tall. He just folded his giraffe like legs into a semi-comfortable position whenever they ended up back in the car and tried not to fidget too much.

They were, as Sam liked to think of it, driving to nowhere. His Dad had come up with some vague notion that they would head in the general direction of his friend Pastor Jim and if something came up they'd take care of it. _The family business_.

"I'm hungry," Sam turned his head to rest his cheek against his arms so he could peer over at his father.

"You're always hungry."

"I'm a tee-"

"I know, I know," John laughed. Sam liked the sound and savoured it; John didn't laugh nearly enough. "You're a teenager," John finished in that deep, gravelly voice of his.

Looking smug, Sam turned back to stare out the window.

-=-=-=-

It had started with blanks.

For awhile Dean didn't notice them simply because it was just that, chunks of time where he'd seemingly fall asleep in one place and wake up in another. He shrugged it off, assuming that the last semester of school combined with the part time job at the diner his dad insisted he pick up was finally wearing on him. And he never woke up too far from where he'd started so really Dean figured he wasn't so much sleep walking as he was zoning out while attempting to complete daily routines.

Then it changed. Dean _woke up_ with blood on his hands that certainly wasn't his own and no real recollection in the slightest as to how it could have gotten there. He was in an alley four blocks from his house and it was dark, though the last thing he remembered was stepping off the school grounds into mid afternoon sunshine. To say he was disturbed was putting it lightly. For days afterward Dean lived in a silent paranoia, flinching whenever the phone rang or someone knocked at the door. What if he'd done something? Hurt someone? Why couldn't he _remember_?

Things spiralled downhill from there. At eighteen years old Dean Archer had thought he was on the cusp of his future. In a few short months he'd be out of high school and on his way to the University of Kansas, the rest of his life was spreading out before him and Dean was more than ready to snatch it up. He'd spent eighteen years living under his father's roof, a man who was more than a little controlling and far too opinionated for Dean's taste, he'd done his time and now Dean was _finally_ going to be free.

Until the black outs started.

After the blood on his hands incident - with no resulting consequences - Dean used the rationale that he'd had a bloody nose and simply, somehow, got it only on his hands and not his face. When nothing happened for the next couple of weeks Dean thought he was in the clear. Then it came back with a bang. Dean had been walking the familiar path to school in the early morning sunshine and the next thing he knew he was waking up in a motel bed, in a room he'd never seen before.

It was more than a little disorientating and it took Dean over an hour to discover he was in Topeka in a rundown motel off a back road. The room was empty, everything was in place, and Dean had no idea what had transpired. It was another two hours before Dean worked up the courage to call his dad, terrified just thinking about the way he'd react. Which turned out to be a thousand times worse than he could have expected, especially when he learned three days had passed since his walk to school.

Needless-to-say, the drive home had been stiff and uncomfortable. Dean's father, Abraham, asked him over and over to confess the truth, admit what he'd done, but Dean had no answers. They fought - or Abraham yelled - for the first half hour of the drive and Dean felt panic rising up in him. It wasn't as if this situation comforted him, not knowing where he'd been or what he'd done scared him more than he ever could have admitted. And he opened his mouth to tell the man that but before he could the world went dark.

-=-=-=-

When Dean woke he was in their living room and something was pressing down into his chest. It took a moment for him to realize it was a rope, wound back around his arms and hands and binding him in place. "Dad?" He called, confused and slamming instantly into fear once more.

"I'm sure Jim. There's something in my son and it's not human," Abraham was saying as he paced in front of the open doorway, phone pressed hard into his ear.

 _Not human_. Dean didn't even know where to begin with that information. What could be in him? He knew his dad was into the whole religious thing, he often dragged Dean with him to Sunday services before Dean turned eighteen and reasoned he was mature enough to pick his own way. He also knew Jim, if he was the man Dean was thinking of, was a Pastor. It didn't offer Dean much in the way of an explanation.

"Dad?" Dean called out once more, bile churning in his stomach unpleasantly. "Dad? What's going on? Untie me, Dad, come on." He squirmed uncomfortably under the restraints and looked pleadingly up at his pacing father.

The man only spared him half a glance and whatever other pleas Dean might have had were lost under the new surge of darkness.

-=-=-=-

Abraham Archer considered himself a wise man. He also considered himself a good father but even good fathers could raise slightly less than perfect children. Not that he expected perfection from his son but this? This was a disappointment. At first Abraham had suspected his son might be doing drugs, somehow that felt almost more easy to accept that the truth. Dean was raised with a strong faith, in a strong foundation; Abraham did what he could after his wife left when Dean was just a boy. His heart never should have been weak enough to allow this.

A long call with Pastor Jim had sealed the idea of his son's possession in Abraham's mind. This wasn't his son that was saying these foul things, blaspheming the Lord and all his good works. Dean's eyes were solid black, only clearing to his inherited crystal green for brief moments when the demon in him seemed content to allow Dean to surface. It was progressively getting worse and Abraham knew their time was limited. They needed to fix this.

Jim offered a solution in someone he called a hunter. People apparently trained in exorcisms along with a selection of things Jim didn't seem inclined to go into. Abraham thought better than to ask. After gaining reassurance that Jim would call the person who could help, Abraham disconnected his line and dragged a chair over to sit in front of his son.

"Oh Dean, where did I go wrong with you?" Abraham sighed heavily as the boy twisted and jerked under the ropes binding him. Dean's heart was weak; he was likely giving in to temptations Abraham hadn't been aware of.

Resolving to insist Dean return to church on Sunday mornings, Abraham settled in to wait. Filth continued to fall from his son's lips and he stopped seeing the familiar green. There were only black eyes now and snarled words that echoed around his usually peaceful house. Abraham curled his hands together and prayed for his son's soul.

-=-=-=-

Head tilted to the side, slumped down on the seat - Sam could tell by the tone of his father's voice and the clipped way he spoke that something was happening. When the phone was off and tossed on the seat between them Sam rubbed at his eyes for a few seconds and pushed himself back up on the seat. “A job?”

“Yeah,” John Winchester’s expression didn’t soften one bit.

“We headin’ there right now?” Sam’s brows drew together as he studied his Dad’s face. It had been at least two days since his Dad had shaved and his charcoal colored beard was already quite thick. He was doing that squinting thing with his eyes – staring ahead up the highway as though he was pissed off at it and could make it submit with willpower alone.

Sam watched his Dad’s fingers curl tighter over the steering wheel for a few moments. “It’s a possession, Sam. A friend of Jim’s asked him for help and I think it sounds like something that we need to help with.”

Nodding slowly, Sam shifted so he could lean against the door. “Never seen a possession. This gonna be bad?”

“Well, most of the work is done. The shitty stuff anyway. Listen, I think maybe you should sit this one out, Sammy.”

“Aw Dad, don’t start with that again. You know that I can back you up and if I’m gonna get any better at this you have to let me-“

“Sam, he’s only eighteen.”

That gave Sam pause for a few moments. Rolling his lips together he thought about it – thought about having something like that happen to him – losing control of his body and mind and being terrified. “Then, he needs us. That’s what we do.” He did catch sight of the strange look of pride that crossed his Dad’s face just before he turned away.

“Grab my journal, son. You got an hour to read up.”

-=-=-=-

Sam stood beside his Dad at the open trunk watching as he pulled out various things: a flask of holy water, some extra rope which he slung over his shoulder, a container of salt which he handed to Sam. “You got the ritual marked?”

Sam nodded and followed his Dad up the steps to the front door and watched his hesitate for a moment. “Listen, Sam – it’s gonna say things.” His Dad dropped his gaze slightly and Sam watched his expression change to that softer one again. “Demons – these pieces of shit – they mix up lies and the truth so you can’t believe a damn thing that they say. But it’s hurtful and fucked up,” he turned to look at his son, “Just remember you can’t believe what you hear.”

A little taken aback, Sam nodded slowly and gripped his Dad’s journal tighter. “Yeah, okay Dad. Don’t worry ‘bout me let’s just fix this guy then you can get me a beer.” Smiling slightly Sam pressed the journal hard against his thigh and reached out to knock hard on the door.

The door creaked open and revealed a man about John’s age. Sam unconsciously stepped a little closer to his father – sliding almost behind him to let him do the talking.

John tilted his head slightly, peering around the door frame to get a clearer glimpse of the man. “Abraham? I’m John Winchester and this is my son Sam. Pastor Jim told you about us?”

Sam nodded when his Dad introduced him and watched as relief moved over the man’s face. They got that a lot – always _before_ people realized what a shit storm could happen before things got better.

"Yeah, come on in, please." Abraham pulled the door open wider and gestured down the hallway. "I. My son. Dean. He's in here." The hand he extended shook slightly and his eyes drifted uncertainly toward Sam then back toward a low growl further inside the house.

The sound was unsettling, unnatural and sent a ripple of fear sliding down the sweat cooled flesh of Sam's back. He followed his Dad into the house. It smelled strange, maybe frankincense - a rich and thick smell that made Sam breath shallower. The back room was dark and Sam could see his Dad's shoulders tense as they walked into the room.

Just like Abraham had said, his son was in the room. He hadn't mentioned that his son was trussed up to a heavy wooden chair. The rope was almost cutting in to the guy's flesh and Sam stepped forward completely on instinct to move over and help him.

John's arm snapped out. "Stay back Sam." Taking a knee in front of the chair John reached out to push sweat soaked hair off the young man's face.

"Dad?" Sam shuffled closer.

"Open the journal Sam." John sighed - it was that sigh that was heavy with tension - the one that always made Sam move a little faster.

By his Dad's side in moments Sam held the journal out open to the page with all the Latin text on it.

John took the journal as he stood. "Remember what I told you, Sam."

"Yeah little Sammy, remember what good ol' dad told you," the bound boy sneered the words, solid black eyes locking on Sam. "Sure he tells you everything. All about the goodies and the baddies, this supernatural shit. All about your poor mama and her broken lost soul."

Sam took a step back as his father's words started softly in the dimly lit room. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas-"

"Dad?" Sam's voice wavered, his eyes locked on the inky darkness of the other boy's eyes. _Dean_. He tried to remind himself that this monster possessed him, his name was Dean and he was barely older than Sam. Mom. Sam's mom had died when he was a kid and it was one of those things that John didn't discuss. Sam had learned to live with it - these gaps and the lack of answers. This was unnerving though. "You don't know my Mom." Sam's voice was quiet and he tore his eyes away from those black pools.

John whipped his head to the side and spat, "you remember what I _told_ you, Sam." Spinning back to face Dean, John raised his journal again and continued. "mnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu Christi, eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis."

"Don't know your Mom?" Dean repeated back and laughed, a hollow cold sound. "Fuck Sammy, your Mom is all the talk downstairs. Dear little Mommy likes her fun behind the blade. Course, you don't off yourself without bein' a little fucked up in the end. Dear old Daddy knows all about it, you ask." The words were panted, growing more breathy as John continued with his chant. The boy's body twisted and writhed under the ropes, chair skidding across the floor.

The words were whirling around in Sam's mind. _His mother_. "She didn't-"

"Sam!" John's voice cut through the chatter and filth coming out of the boy's mouth.

Starting, Sam turned to face his father, head tilting slightly as his eyes widened. "Sammy, you listen to me. This thing will say anything to get away. You get behind him and hold the chair still. You hear me, boy?" John's voice was gruff, his eyes nailing Sam to the spot.

"I didn't know - what if-"

"Fuck, Sammy. You do what I tell you _right_ now or you get out of here," John yelled. Turning back to the journal John's voice began the low, rumbling chant again. "Non ultra audeas, serpens callidissime, decipere humanum genus, Dei Ecclesiam persequi, ac Dei electos excutere et cribrare sicut triticum."

Finally jolting into action Sam ran around the chair and managed to get a good grip on the back and turn it back so the boy was facing his father. The Latin was all starting to run together in Sam's mind - not that it ever made sense to him. He knew what his father was reading, recognized it all but now it was real. Bile started to rise up in Sam's throat when he felt the heat from the boys back seeping across his own skin.

"She didn't even want you Sammy," the boy growled, barely more than a whisper, meant only for Sam to hear. "You were just a _baby_ and she didn't. Want. You. What makes you think you're worth anything now? You think you're meant to hunt?" Dean's head fell back and solid black eyes fixed up on Sam, lips curling into a sneer. "I'm giving you two, three years tops. You'll be just as fucked up as her. And we've got a nice comfy spot waiting in hell for you Sammy, can't wait to see you there."

Tearing his eyes away from the murky darkness, Sam focused in on his father's lips. The words were still pouring forth and Sam could feel the demon thrashing the boy's body back and forth against the ropes. He could feel the thickness of the air in the room - the way the boy's body was thrashing was so violently. The bile was back in Sam's throat, his teeth clenched so hard he thought they might crack with the pressure.

"D Eus coeli, Deus terra, Deus Angelorum, Deus Archangelorum, Deus Patriarcharum, Deus Prophetarum, Deus Apostolorum, Deus Martyrum, Deus Confessorum, Deus Virginum," John's voice droned on and on and Sam watched every movement of his Dad's mouth.

The words were swirling again and Sam concentrated on trying not to puke while he held the boy as still as he could. _Dean_ , he reminded himself. He didn't want _Dean_ to get hurt because his Dad was going to make this right, get the boy back.

"Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen." John glanced up at Sam, waited until his son met his gaze and nodded.

Almost choking on his own fear Sam spat out, "Amen."

The body slumped against the ropes for a long moment and Abraham stepped shakily forward, eyes wide. "Is it over? Is the thing gone?"

"Get me a glass," John ordered as he yanked the flask out of his inside jacket pocket. When no one moved he turned and glanced over at Abraham, " _get_ your son a glass of water." Watching until Abraham finally headed out of the room John spun the lid off the top of the flask and set it on the floor as he kneeled down. "Sammy? Loosen the ropes a little and hold his shoulders so he doesn't fall."

Sam reached down with trembling fingers to loosen the knots in the taut rope. There was more in John's eyes than the orders he was throwing out. This was always the hard part - this was when they had to convince themselves it was over so they could help this guy. "You're okay, Dean. Just a few more minutes and we'll get you out." Finally managing to loosen the bindings a little Sam reached back and grabbed another chair so he could sit behind Dean. He slipped his arm around Dean's body, planting a palm on the man's soaked t-shirt. "You're good, okay?" He glanced up at his Dad and got a grateful nod.

"Water," Abraham mumbled, voice still tense as he offered the glass to John, waiting for the man to pour water from the flask before grabbing it once more. "Dean? Can you hear me?" The man asked his son as he stepped closer, hesitating a foot away and holding the glass out for Sam.

Dean's head barely lifted and the small hum that left his lips sounded partially strangled. All he felt was pain. "Wha- what happened? W-who...?" His eyes opened an inch for just a moment before closing once more.

Taking the cool glass Sam tightened his hold on Dean. "Hey, drink some of this, Dean." Holding the glass as steadily as he could - because _Jesus_ he'd never shaken so hard in his life - he tipped the glass to offer Dean the water. "Just drink a little and we'll untie you."

John glanced up at his son, dragged his hand down his face and blew out a shaky breath.

Water sloshed across Dean's chin as Sam tilted the cup up and his throat was nearly audible with two thick swallows. The boy slumped back against the chair, a shudder shaking his upper body.

"Dean? Are you alright son?" Abraham still hovered a foot away, fingers threading together and locking in place.

"I don't know what's going on." Dean whispered and his words shook to match the motion of his body.

John moved quickly as soon as Dean swallowed. " _Now_ , Sammy, cut him loose."

Yanking his knife out of his thigh holster Sam worked quickly to slice through the ropes at the back of the chair. He held on to Dean until he knew his Dad had hold of the boy and then moved pushed up to his feet to yank the ropes away. "Mr... uh... where's Dean's room - we need to get him comfy."

Sam watched as his Dad hoisted Dean forward on the chair then slid his arms under the boy's shoulders and behind his knees to he could pick him up. "Which way, Abraham?" John nodded at Sam indicating the journal on the floor. Moving quickly Sam picked up the journal, the flask and the unused container of salt.

"This way," Abraham seemed relieved to have something to do and he led them swiftly down the hallway, pushing the first door on the right open and stepping back to give them room to move. "Can I do anything? Is there anything I should be getting?"

"I'm eighteen," Dean belatedly seemed to protest, head turned toward John. "I can walk."

An unexpected smile crept on to Sam's face as he listened to Dean protesting. There was _no_ way that guy was going to be walking anywhere on his own for a while but frankly, Sam admired the balls it took to say it. "Mister ... uh, Abraham? Could you get me a basin filled with hot water and a clean cloth? My Dad's probably gonna talk to ya for a while and I'll get Dean cleaned up?"

Sam knew the routine. Even someone who had been through something as chaotic and as invasive as a possession still needed to talk. More importantly, they needed to listen to what his Dad had to say about the _after_. Hell, at least there was an after for Dean. Things could have been a lot worse.

Finally reaching the side of the bed, John let Dean down as gently as he could as Abraham disappeared to get the items Sam had requested. "You're gonna be okay with him, Sammy?"

Nodding, Sam brushing past his Dad gently and sat down on the edge of Dean's bed. He glanced up at his Dad briefly, smiled and turned back to Dean. "I'm Sam."

"Dean," the boy shifted on his mattress and winced, eyes lifting back up to lock with Sam's. "Hurts. I feel like I've been tackled by the entire football team. And maybe the cheerleaders. I... I don't remember. Anything. Just blanks." Dean's eyes slid toward the door to watch his father enter but moved quickly back to Sam, an almost pleading light shining to them.

Waiting until the basic was on the night stand John guided Abraham back toward the door with a palm high on his back. "Let's go talk."

Once the older men were out of the room Sam picked up the cloth and soaked it in the water for a few moments before ringing it out. Hesitating a moment, hand hovering over Dean's face Sam smiled. "Can I..." He gestured with the cloth.

"Huh?" Dean's stare was blank for a moment, fixed up on Sam before clouding slightly. "Uh, yeah. I... yeah. Do I- was I hurt?" His hand lifted to graze along the side of his cheek, eyes closing and opening slowly.

Sam wiped gently at Dean's face; it was mostly sweat, some smears of dirt and a whole hell of a lot of freckles. "I don't think you're hurt but you're gonna feel like you've been hit by a truck." Dragging the cloth down Dean's neck Sam smiled softly. "How you feel?" The guy's eyes were green, _really_ green.

"Like I've been hit by a truck?" Dean provided, lips barely shifting up into a brief flash of a smile. "I was... I heard my dad. On the phone. He said there was something in me." Dean looked up at Sam once more, hand falling hard to his side as if he lost strength to hold it up.

Pressing his lips together Sam moved the cloth back over to the basin. "You were possessed." He watched as the expression on Dean's face changed. "A demon," Sam shrugged. He'd looked around briefly on their way into the house. There were crucifixes on the walls, a bible on the front table, some religious tracts. Someone in the house believed. "You guys are religious, yeah?" Sam scratched his forehead and pulled his leg up on the bed.

"My dad. I've been to church a good part of my life." Dean whispered the words, chest lifted and fell heavily. "Why? What did I do?" He pushed his palms down into the mattress, struggling to sit up. "Is it gone?" Dean's arm gave out slightly as he struggled to stay up.

"Hey," Sam pressed his palm gently against Dean's chest. "Just rest here. It's gone, you're safe. Remember that water I gave you? There was holy water in it; you couldn't drink that if you were possessed." Dean's body was starting to cool down; Sam could feel the cool dampness of his t-shirt. "You want to take that shirt off? Get under the covers?" His Dad was right about helping people - it needed to be done - just because of people like this guy.

"I don't. Is this my-" Dean's fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, eyes glazing over as he pulled at the cotton. "I don't understand," he whispered and tangled his fingers through his shirt. Dean's shoulders hunched together, head hanging down. He pressed his fingers into his chest and shook his head. "Why me? Did I do something? I don't... I don't remember all these days. What if I hurt someone? There was blood... oh _god_." Dean looked up at Sam with watery, confused eyes.

"Okay," Sam was a bit out of his depth but he went with his gut, "I'm gonna help you up." Slipping his arm under Dean's shoulders Sam pulled hard. Letting Dean rest against him, Sam tugged at the bottom of his shirt and slid it up slowly. It was soaked clean through and Sam needed to get the guy warm. His Dad's words were running through his mind - all the things he'd warned him about - shock. " _You_ didn't hurt anyone. Anything that happened - it was that demon. Dad and I will figure it out - okay? I promise you that I'll tell you."

Tossing the shirt onto the floor Sam sucked in a breath and wrapped his arms around Dean. "I wouldn't lie to you. We'll figure out what happened - but no matter what - it wasn't your fault, Dean." It was kind of making Sam's heart ache and now he knew where that haunted look on his Dad's face came from some nights when he stumbled into the motel room so late at night.

Dean leaned heavily into Sam's body and sucked in deep breaths as if fighting off a choked sob. After some time he managed to pull back enough to meet Sam's open and honest gaze. "I'm never going to understand why am I? These... that thing. It just what? Picked me out of the crowd one day?" Dean's brows pulled together as he stared at Sam. "And who _are_ you?"

"I'm Sam," Sam smiled warmly, _just Sam_ , "me and my Dad - we hunt these things - supernatural thing that try to hurt people. Pastor Jim called my Dad." Brow furrowing slightly, Sam raised his hand and stroked Dean's hair back off his forehead. "These things just choose people; sometimes some people are most susceptible - if they're young like you and me, maybe upset or something. We can help make sure it doesn't happen again. You'll be safe now." Sam realized he was rubbing the small of Dean's back and slid his hand back up to Dean's shoulder blade. "You want to lie back down?"

"Yeah, I think so," Dean nodded slowly and twisted along the mattress to lower himself down onto his pillow. His hand shot out to wrap around Sam's forearm, eyes lingering on his fingers before trailing slowly up to meet Sam's. "Will you - can you stay? Just for now? I just... it all feels so... weird. I feel like I can still _feel_ it. Like I'm dirty or broken or something." Dean's fingers uncurled from Sam's arm and he dropped his hand down onto his bed, curling around the blanket slowly.

"I'll stay, you just rest." Sam stood and pulled the blanket out from under Dean's legs and covered him up. Dropping back down onto the bed he tucked the blanket up over Dean's chest. "We'll be around for a few days for sure. Your Dad won't leave; he's just downstairs talking to my Dad." Sam lowered his voice- seeing the exhaustion on Dean's face. But there was _fear_ on his face - of course - Sam sighed and worried his bottom lip between his teeth for a few moments then he picked up Dean's hand in both of his.

Rubbing his thumb softly against the back of Dean's hand, Sam talked quietly. He spoke about what they did, how he would wait until Dean was asleep and pour a salt line in front of the windows and the doors. As Dean's lashes fluttered closed, Sam murmured quietly about his father's car and how they traveled so much - his favourite states and anything else he could think of that would keep the expression softening on Dean's face.

Sam heard John's quiet footsteps after a while, long enough for his leg to feel like it was falling asleep. When his Dad peered into the room Sam nodded and carefully pulled his hand back from Dean's and picked up the rock salt. _A promise was a promise._ Moving almost silently around the room Sam trailed a white line of salt in front of both bedroom windows and then the door before stepping over the salt barrier.

John's hand settled on his son's shoulder. "He'll be fine, his father will come and sit with him now," he spoke softly and Sam suddenly felt beaten down by exhaustion.

"I told him we'd be around for a few days. That okay?" Sam blinked owlishly up at his father. For some reason, it seemed really important not to let Dean down.

"Yeah, Sammy, we'll stick around for a while. You can probably help him ..." John waved away the rest of his words. Both Winchesters knew that Dean was going to have a lot of questions, and that they wouldn't really have all that many answers. "C'mon, Sam. Food and sleep."

After a final glance over at Dean's sleeping form, Sam turned and followed his father down the hall.

-=-=-=-

It was dark when Dean woke and there was a moment when panic seeped in and he struggled against invisible ropes surrounding him. Then he remembered. Sam and his father - Dean thought his name was John but it easily could have been James or Jim - had shown up and got the demon out of him. He could easily recall Sam's soft voice though not the words. The tone had helped him ease into sleep before but as he slowly rolled on the mattress the boy wasn't to be found.

Instead his dad was there, leaning against the window frame and staring out into the street. Dean's throat felt dry and scratchy but he coughed around it, drawing his father's attention to him and frowning at the hard expression on the man's face. "Dean. You've been asleep for awhile."

"How long?" Dean asked curiously, wincing when the words sounded strangled and hurt coming out.

Abraham took the chair beside his bed and dug fingers into his arm. "Over a day. Little more than. The Winchester's have been by a couple of times to check on you but they said it was best not to wake you."

"The Winchesters?" Dean repeated and struggled to push himself up until he was sitting. He wanted to ask for some water but he'd seen that look on his dad's face before. The man wasn't happy. Dean didn't feel like pushing the matter.

"John and Sam. They helped you with your demon." Abraham gestured to the air between them, telling Dean the source of his father's aggravation almost instantly.

"Are they still around?" Dean couldn't help asking. He thought Sam had mentioned something about hanging around for a few days, and he had _so_ many questions for him, for them both, but it seemed like they lived sort of intense lives. They clearly did a lot of traveling according to the things Sam was saying the night before.

"Yeah, for awhile." Abraham pursed his lips and ran his fingers across them. "I thought you were stronger than this Dean."

The disappointment was tangible in his father's tone and Dean swallowed around the way it made his insides churn. "Sam said, maybe because I'm young. They... that they just chose people. I- I'm strong. I didn't want this."

"Your heart and spirit were weak. Demons can't get in those people who are strong. Haven't I raised you to be strong Dean?" Unlike Dean, Abraham's eyes were a dark brown and when they were angry, like now, they looked almost black. It was a bit ironic. Dean got his eyes from his mom and he had a pretty good hunch most of his personality came from her as well. Sometimes Dean pictured moments like these and thought how it would be if she were still here.

If she hadn't left, Dean thought she'd be comforting him. Not lecturing him. Not accusing him of being weak. Dean didn't tell his dad this though, since he'd just point out her leaving was just as weak. "You have Dad. I'm sorry. I promise to try harder." Years of making foolish mistakes had taught Dean quickly that when his father was concerned, the best option was simply to agree and apologize if necessary. "It won't happen again."

Abraham huffed slightly and shook his head. "No. It won't. You're going to be spending more time connecting with our Lord. A relationship with him is just what you need."

Truthfully, Dean didn't quite believe that but he simply forced himself to nod. "Yes, sir."

"Until then I can't imagine sending you out into the world where anything could happen." Abraham rose from his chair and started across the room.

It took a moment for the words to click and arrange in Dean's mind and he finally summoned up the energy to push up, palms digging into the mattress. "But. School. Dad what about school?" Dean's grandparents had left him a large chunk of money a few years ago when they passed and Abraham had put it aside, informing Dean he could use it to pay for his school of choice. Dean had specifically gone with the state university so he wouldn't have to get financial aid but the money wouldn't technically be his until he turned twenty five. His dad had control until then and now it was all flashing before his eyes. It was sickening enough that, if Dean had eaten anything in the past few days, he might have thrown up.

"I think it's best if you wait for school until we're sure you won't give in to worldly pressures while there." Abraham glanced his way and sighed. "I'm sorry Dean but it's really for the best. Think of what you could have done. You may have hurt someone, you could have hurt _me_."

By the time Dean managed to find words Abraham had already left the room and there was only silence to speak to. His hands laid out before him in his lap Dean simply stared, shocked and _hurt_. He felt more hollow and empty now than he had since the black outs had begun.

Some time later, Dean didn't really mark the passing time, a soft knock sounded at the door and Dean looked up. Sam was standing there, tall and thin, floppy brown hair hanging in his eyes even after a hand lifted to push it back. He looked slightly nervous, tentative, and Dean dropped his gaze. "Hey." He said quietly and scooted back along the mattress until he sat against the headboard. "I'm glad you came back. I wanted to thank you. Come on in." Dean disliked the flat note to his voice but it wasn't as if anyone knew him well enough to notice it anyway.

Shrugging, Sam smiled away the thank you. "You doin' okay?" He shifted his weight to his back foot and stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

"I." Dean looked up at Sam and shook his head before nodding. "Yeah. I'm doing better. Thanks. Tell your dad that too alright? We can... I mean, my dad and stuff, can he pay you guys back somehow? I can't give much but I have some coupons for my work." Dean blinked then sighed, shoulders slumping impossibly lower. "It's probably not my work anymore. I've missed a lot without calling in. Awesome."

"We don't need anything. It's good to just see you lookin' more like yourself." Sam smiled and pulled a hand out of his pocket to fiddle with his hair, shoving it back off his face then tucking it behind his ear. He looked around the room then his eyes settled on the bed, "can I sit?" Shrugging a shoulder he took a tentative step closer.

"Yeah," Dean nodded and pushed over on the mattress to give Sam more room. "Is it- Sam, could have I gotten possessed because I'm not strong? My heart... was it weak?" He watched the tall boy drop down onto the mattress and reached out, oddly compelled to grasp his hand but stopping himself at the last minute. That probably wasn't a normal reaction to things like that.

"What?" Sam looked puzzled, "weak? No," he shook his head. "No, Dean. That's not how it works, no. Sometimes it just happens, someone's in the wrong place at the wrong time and those things," Sam tugged on the collar of his t-shirt, "those things just take who they can get." He was still for a few moments then reached out to slip his fingers over Dean's hand overcome by the urge to comfort the other boy. "It's not your fault. Trust me; my dad's seen a lot of possessions in his time."

Dean nodded and told himself Sam knew what he was talking about, much more than his dad did at least when it came to matters of possession. These guys apparently dealt with it a lot. "Maybe your dad could talk to mine about that? He... I guess he thinks-" Dean sighed and shook his head. "What was I like? You know, when that thing was in me?" Dean turned his hand under Sam's so their palms met.

Eyes dropping quickly to their hands, Sam pressed his lips together into a thin line. Stretching his fingers out slowly he curled them around Dean's hand. "It wasn't you," he shook his head, "the demon was saying some pretty awful things but that's what they do. My Dad says they lie and twist things." Hurt flitted across Sam's face and he sighed and shook his head. "Can I get you anything?" Sam didn’t want to be reminded of the things the Demon had said about his mother.

Dean frowned, shaken by the thought that whatever he'd said while he was possessed brought that pain to Sam’s face. "Maybe some water. I haven't really... eaten anything or anything but I'm not sure I'm up for it." Dean squeezed Sam's hand and thought briefly how nice the contact was. "How old are you?" He asked curiously; thumb sliding along the smooth top of Sam's hand.

"Me?" A bright smile grew on Sam's face. "Sixteen, Dad says I look older. What about you? You're eighteen right?" His shoulders relaxed a little and then he suddenly pushed toward the edge of the bed, "shit sorry, you want that water now?"

"Uh yeah. I mean, I'm eighteen. You can get the water whenever." If Dean had been in his right mind, if the last few days hadn't have happened, Dean might have said something like _spaz much_? As it was, Dean didn't know if he'd ever feel like himself again. Suddenly _everything_ seemed to press hard on him from all sides and Dean inhaled shakily, hand squeezing Sam's too tight for a moment. "Can we go somewhere? I- could we just... I need to get out. Get some fresh air. Would you go with me?"

"Hey," Sam's expression softened instantly, "sure." Dean’s face was drawn and pale and Sam thought that fresh air might be a good idea. Long fingers curling tighter around Dean's hand for a few moments, Sam kept a gentle smile on his face. "Where are you clean shirts?" Pushing up off the bed Sam withdrew his hand slowly then took a couple of steps toward the dresser. Eyes still on Dean his eyebrows lifted slightly.

Pushing to his feet - not intending to have Sam do all the work - Dean swayed slightly and reached out for the dresser for support. "I'll just..." Dean gestured to the drawer before tugging at it. "Could you get me a pair of jeans from the closet? I really should shower but I just... I need out. For air." Dean felt uncomfortable in his own skin, like this thing that had happened had permanently changed who he was. "Does this happen to a lot of people my age?" Dean asked as he pulled a shirt free from the drawer and looked back at Sam.

Moving quickly, Sam pulled the closet door open and grabbed a pair of jeans. The hangers clanged softly as he turned back to face Dean, jeans clutched tightly in his hands. "Sometimes, I mean - they pick whoever is convenient right?" Smiling softly, Sam met Dean's eyes. "Dean, are you sure you're strong enough for a walk - ya look a bit wobbly there." Stepping closer he reached up and rubbed his hand on Dean's shoulder surprised at how comfortable the touch had become.

Before he could really help it Dean was leaning into the touch and nodding slowly. "Yeah, just have to get my legs steady. Too long lying down." Dean was slightly relieved when Sam didn't step away as he pushed his sweat pants down. It was taking actual concentration to remain balanced, like he'd had a few too many drinks or something. Dean wished that was the case because the alternative... sucked. "There's a field across the street, and there's this log I like to sit on. We could go there; it's quiet and not too far." Dean gave Sam a brief smile, wishing he could match the curve of the boy’s lips that seemed to fit naturally there. Sam was definitely a nice guy, after the way his dad reacted to the whole thing Dean was relieved to have him there.

Once he was dressed Dean dragged a hand up through his hair and looked up into Sam's eyes. "I don't want my dad stopping me. I just need some time. Do you think you could get me a bottle of water from the kitchen and distract him while I go out the front door? We could meet in the driveway?" Dean didn't feel nearly as guilty about sneaking around as he thought he should have but he figured the past few days counted him worthy of a break.

Hesitating for a moment Sam considered disagreeing. He didn’t want Dean’s father being worried but the look on Dean’s face convinced him and he finally nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

Dean used his fingers along the wall to guide him down the hall and out the front door. He heard his father talking, presumably to John Winchester, but didn't stop to listen. He didn't want to know what the man had to say about him. Or, didn't want to hear it again really.

The air outside was pleasantly crisp and Dean inhaled almost greedily. It didn't really make him feel all better but it soothed some part of his mind so it helped. He stared at the shiny black Impala in the driveway as he slowly walked the length of cement. Dean tried to remember if he ever felt normal, because this unsettling stirring in him felt all too consuming and Dean was beginning to think his dad was right. He wasn't strong enough.


	2. Chapter 2

The water was cool and refreshing on Dean's tongue and he struggled to follow Sam's advice and not drain the entire bottle the way he wanted too. "We've lived in this house my whole life," he said quietly and fixed his eyes on the house across the street, just far enough away that his father's image was a blur in the illuminated window. "My mom left when I was five or so, just kind of took off one day so it's just me and my dad." Dean tilted his head toward Sam and smiled briefly. "I guess you know about that though. What happened to your-“ Dean dropped his gaze and sighed. “Sorry that's none of my business."

"My mama? Is that what you were gonna ask?" Sam shifted on the log and looked up - his brows pulling together slightly. "She was," he dropped his eyes, hair falling forward; "she died when I was little. I don't really remember her - other than pictures and stuff." Looking back up to meet Dean's gaze he smiled, "she was real beautiful."

Smiling briefly Dean looked up toward the sky and curled his fingers back into the log. "Yeah? Would make sense." Dean let his eyes fix on Sam, not explaining further. Sam had to get his good looks from somewhere. "Have you been doing this your whole life?" Dean couldn't imagine a life on the road like that, and the things Sam may have seen.

"Well," Sam shrugged a shoulder, "I just started hunting with my Dad - it was my birthday in May." Sam pointed at the scar on his arm and blinked slowly. "Pissed off werewolf." His finger moved to the slight scar on his cheek, "spirit - kitchen knife." Smiling again he seemed to be comfortable meeting Dean's gaze. "Why'd you say that? About my Mom? That it would make sense?"

Laughing softly, just a quiet exhale of amusement, Dean used his hand to gesture the full length of Sam's body. 'You had to have gotten your looks somewhere right? Of course the only memory I have of your dad is him carrying me but you don't seem to look much like him.' Dean shifted until his shoulder rested against Sam's, needing to feel the comfort of human touch after everything.

A slight blush grew on Sam's cheeks and he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as though he didn't quite know what to say. Finally he just slid his arm along the log behind Dean so that it was there for support. He didn't move away and simply turned his gaze away, staring off out into the distance. "You feeling better today?"

Leaning into Sam's side Dean slowly shook his head. "My dad says it's my fault. That I was weak. I think he found my secret porn stash." Dean said it with a laugh, meant it to be a joke because if his dad had really found it. Well, demons would be the least of his worries.

Smiling slightly at the attempt at humour, Sam lifted his hand to Dean's arm. "You're cold," he sat back a little, "here." Shrugging his jacket off he slung it around Dean's shoulders then pulled him close, hand rubbing up and down Dean's upper arm. "Don't want you to get sick." They were quiet for a few moments, and then Sam spoke softly. "It's not your fault. It doesn't matter how strong you are - you can't fight things like demons without, you know, tools and incantations. If they want you, they'll take you."

It was nice to hear even if Dean wasn't completely sure it was true or not. Turning his head toward Sam, Dean blinked slowly and wet his lips. The last however many days was weighing on him, a heavy pressure in his stomach, and Dean needed some release. Which he used as the rational for leaning forward, closing the distance between them slowly. Dean's lips were pretty dry and he just had enough time to wet them before they pressed to Sam's.

Sam's lashes fluttered down to his cheeks for a few moments as his lips brushed softly against Dean's before he pulled back. His eyes were wide when they opened, glistening in the moonlight. "What was that for?" There was a crooked grin on Sam's face as he dropped his eyes, hiding behind his hair.

"Just felt like something I wanted to do," Dean whispered and attempted to judge Sam's reaction from the four brief words and the cute little up tilt of his lips. "It was good, yeah?" Their sides were pressed together now, Dean could feel Sam where their knees met, thighs to hips, arms and shoulders. It was comforting, like Sam just being there was tethering him down to the ground. Dean decided he'd really like to do the kissing thing again.

"Yeah, was good." Sam glanced around briefly, then tilted his head and peered at Dean out of the corner of his eye. His eyes were wide in the darkness, blinking slowly, and then his fingers slipped over Dean's thigh. "I liked it." His tongue darted out to wet his lips and the smile twitched on and off his lips again as though he was unsure what to do.

Wetting his lips once more Dean adjusted on the log, hand extending and only slightly shaking as he brushed Sam's hair back from his forehead. This wasn't the first time he'd kissed a boy but the only other time had been after way too much alcohol and Dean only vaguely remembered it being not so pleasant. It didn't mean he wasn't curious though, and interested - if the way his blood was heating in response to Sam's hand on his thigh was anything to go by. "Yeah, me too," Dean spoke only loud enough for Sam to hear before leaning close once more, allowing Sam to close the distance if he wanted.

It was more like Sam fell forward rather than moved and his lips were suddenly against Dean's once more; gentle and soft, almost tentative and definitely shy. He sucked in a surprised breath as Dean's lips parted - then his own lips followed, moving slowly. Spreading his fingers apart he gripped Dean's thigh like he was holding on for his life and his other arm pulled Dean closer to his chest. "Aren't you cold," he whispered, lips brushing Dean's softly with each word.

"Mm wearing your coat," Dean pointed out in a faint gasp. Sam was _strong_. Dean could tell just from the way he pulled him close. It sent a strange twisting thrill through him he'd only ever gotten before with girls, like when he could see down their shirt or when they were skirts too short. Only this wasn't a girl and Dean couldn't decide if that idea turned him on more or if Sam's fingers digging into his muscle was the source to his near instant hard on. "You cold?" Dean asked in a quiet whisper as his hands settled on Sam's chest, rubbing slow circles down.

Sam's head shook back and forth slowly and he leaned far enough back to flip his leg over the log and behind Dean so he could shimmy closer. Slipping both arms around Dean's waist Sam slid closer, the rough bark of the log rasping against his jeans. And then he was pressed up closed against Dean like he was stealing warmth and the smile spread on his face again. "Not now," he murmured and rubbed his cheek against Dean's.

Having never experienced a connection like this, something more than just physical, Dean felt almost out of his element. But in an entirely awesome way. "I've never really kissed a guy," Dean admitted, head turning so his lips could slide once more against Sam's. "I've wanted to though. I mean, I thought about it. It's nice, feeling something that's not..." Dean didn't know how to describe the way the last few days had felt.

"I have," Sam smiled, "kissed a guy I mean." His eyes widened rather suddenly, "don't tell my Dad though. Not that you would..." Sam shifted again, fingers slipping under the bottom of the jacket to settle on the warmth of Dean's side. "This was the first time my Dad took me to, well, on this kind of case. To be honest," Sam blew out a breath and rested his chin on dean's shoulder, "it was pretty scary. Was real worried about you."

It wasn't particularly something Dean wanted to picture, how he'd been, and he vaguely remembered Sam being dismissive before when he asked about it. But curiosity had him pressing the topic. "Did I talk a lot? I have bruises on my arms so I must have squirmed around a lot. Whatever I said must have pissed off my dad or something. At some point. I think he's angry with me, he's not-" Dean looked up toward the stars and half shrugged. "Whatever. So are you like, gay then? Or bi? How... how far have you gone?" Dean briefly smiled, letting his hands settle on Sam's thigh.

In response to the flood of questions Sam pulled back a little, blinked for a few moments, eyebrows raised. "That was kind of two completely different conversations there, Dean." Settling his chin back on Dean's shoulder he spoke softly. "I don't know what happened before we got here but you were - the demon was kind of crazy. Sayin' things that were," Sam sighed softly, "things that maybe weren't true. Your Dad seemed more scared than anything but he had you tied and maybe that's how you got bruised. Does it hurt?" Sam's fingers drifted up Dean's arm, stroking gently.

"I'm okay," Dean chuckled softly, mostly because Sam's concern made him feel good. It was a stark contrast from his father's reaction at least. "I hope I didn't say anything... I mean. I know it's not really me. Or it wasn't me. But that doesn't stop things from hurting." Dean pressed his lips together and stared hard up at the stars as if they could provide some solution for a problem he wasn't even full aware of yet. "My dad is keeping the money I was going to use for school. He wants me to get more in touch with _God_ or something. Because he thinks it's all my fault." Dropping his gaze Dean looked at Sam and frowned. "Stupid."

"It is stupid. I told you - it's not your fault that this happened. My Dad, maybe my Dad can make him understand some more." Sam sat back a little, shivering slightly as he moved further away from Dean's warmth. He waited a while, saying nothing then in a firm gentle tone he spoke again. "This kind of thing happens to people, there's no rhyme or reason to how it happens and it is no reflection on you." There was a strangely open expression on Sam's face - like he had no fear that Dean would _know_ him. "Do you believe me?"

"It seems like you know what you're talking about." Dean met his gaze and for a while they simply stayed that way. Dean wished he could say he was reading into Sam's soul just by holding his gaze but it wasn't really that at all. There was _something_ though. It had never been Dean's thing; to put names to connections and have things just make sense. Life was too complicated. "You're older than sixteen. Maybe not physically but I can see it. Do you ever stay anywhere? Like with a home and stuff?" Dean reached out and tugged on the man's arm because clearly he was cold and he liked him near.

Laughing softly, Sam settled easily back into Dean's warmth. "My home," he shrugged a shoulder, "is the Impala and whatever Motel room we're in for the week. Sometimes Dad gets a bee up his ass about staying somewhere - like right now - he wants to make sure you're alright. Thinks he can do more to fix things." Tilting his head slowly, peering into Dean's eyes Sam looked serious. "Promise me something?"

Reaching up, Dean slid his finger down the stony set of Sam's jaw, surprised by how grown up the boy really could look. "Alright, I can say I'll promise you something." Dean blinked under the weight of Sam's gaze and wondered briefly what it would be like to have no home at all. "But I'd have to say it's all a matter of reason. Whether I can promise you or not."

"Promise me that we'll stay in touch when I leave? If Dad decides we're leaving - it will be sudden, but I'll get a message to you somehow. Let you know how to reach me?" Leaning forward Sam pressed his lips to the corner of Dean's mouth, lashes resting on his cheeks for a few moments. "Promise me you won't forget me?" There was something sad and heavy in his voice, almost _too_ serious for someone his age.

Dean had no idea how long he'd actually known Sam, everything was still too blurry, but he couldn't imagine not knowing him now. "You saved my life." He informed Sam in case he didn't know, or didn't see it in that light. "I could never forget you now. So if you tell me how, we'll stay in touch. I promise." Dean turned enough to capture Sam's lips in another kiss. It was odd, how the action simultaneously turned him on and comforted him, soothed him like no kiss ever had. Or touch for that matter. Maybe he was just at a weak place at the moment but he was quite suddenly inclined to push things further.

Sam stared for a few moments, tongue finally darting out to sweep across his bottom lip. Bringing their lips together once more, Sam folded his body into Dean's. Sliding his palm under Dean's t-shirt he moaned softly but the sound just disappeared into the darkness around them. He was shivering, maybe from the cold, maybe from the sensation. His palm was cool against Dean's skin, rough, scarred.

It was easy to part his lips under Sam's and sweep his tongue forward, eagerly searching for more hidden tastes he wouldn't be able to name no matter how long he tried too. Sam's hand felt surprisingly cold against his body but it heated him regardless, had him arching up into the touch. Dean moaned into the kiss and pressed forward harder, moving quicker, sliding his hand up into Sam's hair to hold him steady to thoroughly devour his lips. It pulled another moan from him and Dean decided kissing Sam was like a head rush.

Hooking his leg up over Dean's Sam was almost wrapped right around him; There was something almost desperate in it and yet, alluring. He moved his lips against Dean's, tongue sliding forward to cover every surface - drift across Dean's teeth, the roof of his mouth. Sam was exploring, learning. A shuddering wave of motion traveled the length of Sam's body, pushing him almost impossibly closer, lips, chest, and hips - even his legs tightened around Dean's body.

The night air was still crisp in the beginning of spring but Dean felt overheated. That didn't stop him from wanting more of Sam however. He pulled the boy down with him, falling back onto the cool grass. "Sam," Dean gasped and tugged him in again. He could feel Sam's dick, pressing into his thigh and Dean moved his leg up experimentally to roll against it, testing how Sam would react. This was far hotter than any sex he'd had before.

Spreading his long body along Dean's, Sam moaned softly as his hips ground forward against the other man's thigh. When he gazed down into Dean's eyes, there was a flush on his cheeks, "Dean - are you sure - I mean..." His lashes drifted closed for a few moments as he arched his spine slightly against the body beneath him. "Don't want to take advantage..." It was a murmur that disappeared into almost nothing as his lips sank down over Dean's once more.

Yanking his head back Dean ignored the dirt and grass pressing into his skull and arched his hips up, making his own arousal obvious to the boy. "Really fucking sure," Dean moaned when the boy adjusted his body angle so their crotches met and pressed. With a hand wrapped around the back of Sam's neck Dean dragged him down to crush their lips hard together once more.

"It's," Sam's breathing was already rough, "you're," he panted softly as he stared down at Dean. His palms thumped down into the dirt beside Dean's head and he let his legs slide down so he was straddling the older man. As soon as he ass hit Dean's thighs Sam shifted up, dragging his crotch up against Dean's and moaning. Long hair fell forward over his eyes as his fingers curled into the dirt and grass. "Dean," he murmured as his hips tilted back and forth.

Sliding his hands down Sam's body Dean curled his fingers into the small of the boy's back to grind harder up into him. "Touch," Dean muttered before thrusting his tongue up into Sam s mouth once more. This was just what he needed, a physical connection tying him to this world. He didn't know what he was really asking for, just that he wanted it. More and right now.

Pushing at Dean's t-shirt, Sam slid it up the older boy's body. His broad fingers moved in small circles on Dean's skin, eyes following, slight smile on his face. "Touching," he teased as he glanced up at Dean's face. His expression changed slightly as he searched Dean's face for answers to questions he hadn't quite formulated yet. Dean's skin was smooth and warm and Sam found himself dragging the pads of his fingers gently over the dark lines from the ropes.

The shudder that curled down Dean's spine was less from the sudden chill and more from the way Sam's hands made him feel. "Clearly," Dean whispered and smiled for just a moment before arching up to capture Sam's lips. He was already addicted to kissing this boy. "Sam," Dean arched up into the younger boy's body, pushing his fingers up under Sam’s shirt to spread across his skin.

Leaning down into the kiss, Sam kept his hands moving and slid them straight up over Dean's chest to curl around his neck. His tongue slid forward again, slipping across Dean's bottom lip and into the heat of his mouth. He wriggled slightly so Dean would curve his hands over Sam's back - holding them closer together. He could smell the earth around them, the grass crushed under his knees and the old wood from the old log beside them.

Dean could feel Sam along the length of his body and he gasped in deep lungfuls of air in between kisses. "God you're a great kisser." Dean mumbled and tugged Sam down. He kissed him until his lips felt numb and his lungs hurt from the lack of air. He had no idea how long they had been out in the field but he didn't really care. Sam was the definitely the best thing that ever happened to him. Despite what led up to it.

Finally, tearing his lips away Sam let all his weight fall on Dean. He worried briefly if he was hurting him - putting too much pressure on his bruises, but Dean didn't seem to be in any pain. Slipping off Dean's body Sam curled up at his side and tugged the jacket over him. "I _really_ want to stay here with you, but I need to get you back inside." Stretching up he nuzzled against Dean's cheek, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of his flesh. "Maybe-" he pressed his lips to Dean's cheek, "could I get the car tomorrow and come and get you?"

Going back in the house probably the least appealing idea Dean had ever heard but he knew it was only a matter time before his dad went looking for him. "Yeah. Alright. But you'll come see me again? Can we like, hang out or something? Go see a movie?" Dean reached out to tuck hair behind Sam's ear and leaned forward to brush their lips together.

"A date?" Sam grinned, flashing his dimples and gripping the jacket covering Dean a little tighter. "You askin' me out on a date, Dean?" He was glad it was dark because he could feel his cheeks pinking up even as his heart started to thud a little louder at the idea of being on an _actual_ date. Sam's life didn't lend itself well to dating, making out, fumbling around in the back seats of cars and dark alleys sure, dating? No.

Chuckling softly, Dean half shrugged. "Yeah maybe a date. Unless you're anti dates or something. Man date? Or two guys hanging out. I just want to see you again and do more of this." Dean grinned and tugged him down for another kiss.

Laughing softly against Dean's lips, Sam curled a hand behind Dean's neck. "I'll come and get you tomorrow afternoon, Dad said you should get out and walk - we could have coffee and hang out." He watched as emotions fought on Dean's face. Obviously the guy didn't want to go back in there. "Are things ... I mean, if I can ask - are things gonna be okay with you and your Dad?"

“I think so.” Dean nodded slowly and reluctantly sat up. "I'm sure it'll work out." Dean wasn't sure he believed it but he wanted to. "It takes time," Dean knew that. He reached out for his shirt and tried not to shake at the prospect.

Straightening his own clothes, Sam groaned as he got back to his feet. "Keep my jacket for tonight," he smiled shyly, "would make me feel better." There was something strangely sad about Dean, the way his eyes softened sometimes when he was thinking, the way his smile seemed less than it should have been. Sam suspected that thing weren't _working out_ between Dean and his father - but he would talk to his own Dad later and see what John thought.

He held his hand out for Dean, "come on." Waiting until Dean's cool fingers slid over his palm, Sam pulled the older boy up to his feet and slid his arms under the jacket and around Dean's waist. "It's strange," he sighed and pressed his lips to Dean's temple, "I feel like I know you, like, _way_ more than I do."

"I know. Maybe it's what we shared," Dean suggested and smiled up at Sam slightly. "You’re sweet. Thanks for..." Dean didn't even know where to begin. Sam was amazing in so many ways.

Tugging on Dean's arm, Sam pulled him around the side of the log - "No thanks needed. Come on - our Dad's are gonna think we ran off." He threaded his fingers through Dean's without even thinking about it and leaned closer to press a quick kiss just in front of Dean's ear. "I bet your Dad will be different now he's been talking to my Dad, he will have explained a bunch of things. Maybe it will help?" He blinked a few times, staring down at Dean - the green of his eyes was only just visible in the distant light from the streetlights.

Smiling a little brighter Dean nodded and tugged Sam in, pressing a hard kiss to his lips for a lingering moment. "Yeah, you're probably right. Maybe I should talk to your dad at some point, so I know what he said to my dad." Dean stared down at the ground for a long few minutes before looking up at Sam. "He's not right. My dad? I know I keep asking I just... if it's me... if there's something in me..." Dean couldn't escape the thought and how much it terrified him.

Sam's hands moved quickly to Dean's cheeks. "Hey," he stared into Dean's eyes, "there's nothing bad about you. _Nothing_. D'you hear me?" Thumbs rubbing gently across Dean's cheeks, Sam felt agitation stirring in his stomach. Dean's father should be _helping_ him, supporting him, not making him feel like he was to blame for any of this. "You are _not_ to blame, you didn't do anything to _make_ this happen. Do you trust me?" His brows drew together for a few moments, _God_ he wished he could just show Dean somehow and _make_ him understand.

It was odd that the answer to Sam's question came so easily. "Yes, I trust you." He smiled up at the man, more genuine this time, and stepped forward to wrap his arms around him in a hug. "I know it's not me. I _know_ it. I just wish... my dad." Dean buried his face in the curve of Sam's shoulder and sighed softly before pulling back. "Okay, let's go in before... yeah. Hey do I look like we just made out hardcore?" Dean smirked for a moment as he stared up at Sam, finding it harder than should be to let go of him.

Laughing, Sam reached up to smooth down Dean's hair and pick some grass off of him. "You have really rosy cheeks," he couldn't help running his thumb over Dean's bottom lip. "Your lips are a little swollen," but that just made Sam want to kiss them even more. He stepped back, reaching for Dean's hand again. "Yeah, a little, you do but we'll walk slow." Catching his bottom lip between his teeth he bit down hard and started to walk back to the house.

"So how long have you known that you like guys?" Dean asked, glancing to the side to peer up at Sam. "Your dad doesn't know?" He was ready to not be talking about the possession for awhile. Maybe forever. Or at least until his dad brought it up again because that was nearly unavoidable.

"I think he might know. We spend a lot of time together and it's not like I go on about swimsuit models or bring girls back to the Motel room." Sam shrugged a shoulder and blew his hair off his forehead. "We have an understanding - it's just the way we are with each other. Don't ask a lot of questions, we just know that we're there for each other when it matters. As for how long," a small chuckle bubbled up out of Sam's chest, "I don't really know. Guess, as far back as I can remember I thought about guys more. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love a beautiful curvy chick, but guys," he shrugged again as he found himself at a bit of a loss.

His fingers tightened on Dean's hand briefly; a small squeeze. "Muscles, harder, being a little rough maybe," Sam's voice had softened as though he was telling Dean a secret and he supposed he was. It wasn't like he had ever told another human being any of this. "What about you?"

"I've thought about guys before. Watched gay porn," Dean snorted a laugh and shrugged. "Mostly been with girls though. A couple girls. It wasn't that great. So maybe I'm bi. I need to explore the guy thing more though," Dean looked over at Sam and grinned, bumping their hips together. "Can I ask how far you've gone? If it's all it suggests it might be?" Dean could definitely think about doing more things with Sam, and it certainly wasn't unappealing.

Heat flooded Sam's cheeks, "kissing, touching mostly, I just got my driver's licence and Dad said I could quit school this year on my birthday so we're on the move now. Don't know what will happen. Didn't know this would-" He bit down on his bottom lip and dropped his eyes so he could hide behind his hair.

Chuckling softly Dean nodded. "Yeah, I didn't really... I mean... I guess kissing you was a little spur of the moment but it just seemed right." Dean's steps slowed almost to nothing as they arrived at the sidewalk. He could see shapes in the light of the kitchen window, his father pacing, and his frown returned. "So I'll see you tomorrow then?" Dean glanced over at Sam uncertainly.

The porch light flicked on and Sam dropped Dean's hand, stepping back a little and squinting in the sudden brightness. "Yeah, I'll be here about three?" Sam grinned and started to lean in toward Dean again.

The door clicked and swung open making both boys start. "Jesus Christ, Sam where ya bin?" John Winchester tugged his jacket on and closed the door behind him. "Dean, your father's waiting for you in the kitchen." He walked over and when he reached Sam he glanced at his face, did a double take and turned back to Dean. "You need some more rest son."

"Thanks Mr. um... John, sir," Dean mumbled and glanced toward the door of the house, shoulders slumping. "I'll just... well... see you later." Flickering a smile toward Sam Dean half shrugged a shoulder and headed for the door, ignoring the dread curling through him for what was likely to be an unpleasant conversation. "Have a nice night," Dean turned slightly to stare at Sam for a moment before turning back to the door.

Both Winchesters watched Dean move up the path and disappear through the front door. Sam scratched at his cheek then rubbed his arms.

“He was wearing your jacket.” John folded his arms and leaned back against the car.

“Yeah, he was cold.” Sam couldn’t help the smile that inched on to his face.

“Nice guy?

“Nice guy.” Sam folded his arms across his chest, feeling the evening chill now Dean was gone.

“Gettin’ in over your head?” John turned his gaze toward his son’s face.

Blinking, Sam looked down at the path for a few moments then over at his Dad. “No Sir, don’t worry.” Sam knew the rules. _Don’t get wrapped up in the personal side of things_. He just wasn’t sure that he believed it this time.

“Well,” John hesitated a moment like he was going to pursue it, shook his head and pushed off the car. “Get in ya idiot – you look frozen.”

“Wasn’t so cold before,” Sam muttered as he pulled the passenger door open. Rubbing his hands together briskly he watched he father sink down behind the wheel. “You think his Dad’s gonna freak out? Lose it?”

John’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Did Dean say something to you about his Dad?” He slipped the key into the ignition and fired up the engine.

Reaching down to slide the heat dial toward _heat_ Sam couldn’t help a slight shiver. “Just a gut feeling. He didn’t really talk about it,” Sam sighed and turned slightly to face John as he backed the car out of the dirt driveway, “ya know how sometimes you just get a feeling about things? It was like that. Maybe something’s not quite right between them. Dean said that his Dad figured it was all Dean’s fault – that somehow he’d done something wrong, something that made him _deserve_ this.”

Tilting his head to the side John put the car in drive and headed off down the road. “Yeah, he said as much to me but I spent a lot of time trying to explain it to him. Shit, Sammy, the guy’s almost a religious fanatic. I mean, you know I got no problem with people believin’ in things but man this guy he’s at the far end of that spectrum.”

Nodding Sam turned and reached into the back seat for a hoodie. He yanked it down over his head, keeping the hood up. “So, we’re gonna stay for a while? Maybe, you could spend some more time with him – Abraham – and I could spend a bit more time with Dean?”

John licked his lips and smirked slightly. “Give Dean some support?”

“Yeah, right?”

Laughing, John reached out a punch Sam gently on his shoulder. “Take that hood off, ya look like a thug.”

“Hey, Dad,” Sam shoved the hood back and tried to brush his staticy hair back off his cheeks. “When Dean was possessed, those things the demon said about Mom-“

John’s voice was void of emotion. “Sam, I told you – Demon’s mix up truth with lies.”

“But they tell the truth sometimes?” He looked out his window, watching the lights in the distance.

“Sometimes, I suppose. But it’s the way they mix it all up, Sam – it becomes something different.”

“Did Mom kill herself?” He blurted the words out; they’d been simmering since he’d heard them. Now that he’d spent some more time with Dean he knew they’d come one hundred per cent from the Demon. _From Hell_.

“Sam, this isn’t the time for this talk. Your Mom was a complicated woman-“

“That’s not a _no_ , Dad.” Fear gripped Sam’s spine, cold and uncomfortable.

“ _Not_ now. _Not_ here. _Not_ because some fucking Demon told you mixed up shit about your - Mary.” He almost spat the words out.

Sam turned back to face his Dad – surprised by the outburst – startled by how sick the fear made him. He’d never had a single reason in all his years to mistrust his Dad and now, that was all kind of falling apart. What did _not now_ mean? Did it mean the Demon was right and there was more to the story than Sam knew? Did it mean that there was a piece of truth in there?

Too stunned to say much of anything, maybe not even wanting to know the entire truth, Sam turned back to the window and stared out into the darkness. It was going to be a quiet night in the motel room. And Sam already knew he was going to have nightmares all night of a beautiful blond woman cutting people to shreds in Hell.

-=-=-=-

The conversation with his father went about as well as Dean expected. Despite whatever John said to him the man seemed convinced Dean had more issues than he let on. They’d spent a good hour arguing until Dean was so tired he could barely see straight. All he could think before falling asleep curled under his sheets was Sam and how much he wanted to see him again.

The following day Dean lay in bed, listening to his father moving around the house and ignoring when he knocked on the door. Shortly after lunch he left to head to work and Dean rushed through a shower and sandwich just in case Sam showed up sometime soon.

It was later in the day when Sam did appear and Dean exhaled in relief when he pulled the door open and saw the boy there. "Hey. I was hoping I'd see you soon," dean hesitated, looking outside to see if Sam was alone before reaching out to tug his shirt hem.

Stepping forward into the house Sam grinned and kicked the door shut behind him. He glanced around quickly, hand already slipping over Dean's hip. "You alone?"

Stepping into the touch Dean nodded slowly, head falling back just an inch to meet Sam’s gaze. "Yeah, my dad went to work. I dreamed about you." That last part kind of slipped out but Dean didn't care as much as he thought he would. It was good. He grinned and wrapped his hand up behind Sam's neck, pulling him in for kiss in greeting.

Sam made a small noise of agreement and pressed his lips against Dean's. "You taste good," he murmured. It was like this made him believe that the night before hadn't been some sort of crazy fantasy he'd made up. "You're real." Sam ginned against Dean's mouth, "I sometimes, well, don't think I'm crazy." He pulled back a little and stared down into Dean's eyes. "It's an occupational hazard, sometimes; I can't believe things are real." His hand drifted up to Dean's freckled cheek, "like you."

"That must be scary sometimes," Dean murmured before bringing their lips together once more. He stepped into Sam's body and wrapped arms around the boy's body, needing to feel him closer. Sam was already becoming a comfortable presence and Dean used his warmth to calm the nerves still lingering from last night. A small moan left his lips into the kiss as Dean pressed harder forward.

The force of Dean's movement knocked Sam off his balance a little and he laughed softly. The laughter disappeared quickly though, replaced only by a burning heat that he'd already come to associate with Dean. There was a part of Sam that knew this was crazy, feeling like this so soon after they had met - but he felt in some way they were connected by something. If he'd learned anything hunting with his Dad it was that there were lots of things that didn't have to be seen to be believed.

Sucking in a deep breath through his nose Sam slid his hands over Dean's hips and spread out his fingers on the other man's back. Dean was warm and Sam could feel the muscles moving beneath his t-shirt as they swayed closer together. Running his tongue along the seam of Dean's lips, Sam couldn't help letting his hands fall and hooking his thumbs over Dean's waistband.

"Wanna..." Dean stumbled back, pulling Sam with him down the hall. He told himself it was just so they weren’t in the hallway but truthfully he wanted Sam in his bed, above him once more. Their lips met and they collided for a moment into a wall before stumbling into his bedroom. He rolled his hips hard into Sam’s, hands fumbling down his sides and slipping between them to brush against the half hard bulge in Sam’s jeans.

Heart thumping away in his chest - Sam let himself be pulled - then turned them so he was walking Dean backwards. "Dean," his hands slid up to Dean's face - holding him still against the door to his bedroom. "What? I thought you wanted," he nipped groaned and ground his hips forward as Dean's hand brushed his hip, "to go out?" Eyes locking on the older man's for a moment Sam smiled softly, "you sure you wanna..." he wasn't making assumptions, knew he'd stop the moment Dean said so, but _God_ \- there was something there that he couldn't ignore. Something almost tangible was thick in the air between them; he slid his hands forward, curling them around Dean's neck the sliding them up through his hair.

There was no doubt in Dean's mind what he wanted. And it involved Sam on him, maybe with no clothing. "Yeah. Yeah definitely wanna." The back of his knees hit the bed and Dean fell back onto his mattress, exposing just how hard he was for the boy.

Licking his lips, Sam blew out a breath. "You're pretty hot, you know that?" His lips twisted into a shy grin as he shrugged out of his jacket and let it fall to the floor. Biting down on his bottom lip he moved closer, standing between Dean's legs and kicking them apart gently. Resting one knee on the mattress right next to Dean's crotch Sam took in a deep breath and reached down to slide a finger down the hard line in the front of Dean's pants.

Dean wasn't really ashamed at the way his hips rolled up so easily into Sam's touch. "W..what do you wanna do?" He gasped softly and curled his fingers in the bed sheet, hooking a leg around Sam's upper thigh. "I wanna do... Wanna touch and whatever you want." His body lifted slightly, reaching out to snag Sam and pull him closer.

"Touching," Sam murmured, "touching is good." Sam reached out with shaking fingers and shoved at the hem of Dean's t-shirt - letting it bunch up under his palms as he pushed it higher and higher. Dean's skin was pale but for the bruises, they were darker now, raised red in some spots where they rope had burned. "God," Sam hissed, fingers moving automatically to trace the marks. "Does it hurt?" He shifted, his thigh pressing harder against Dean's crotch and feeling his own dick grow heavier at the touch.

"Touching without clothes would probably be better," Dean pointed out and grinned slightly, the expression faltering when Sam's fingers flicked across his nipple. Dean moaned softly and pushed up enough to help Sam slip his shirt off then watched as Sam's joined his on the floor. "Your body..." Dean sucked in a breath and pressed forward so his lips slid across Sam's abs, sculpted enough to show he worked out.

Hands pressing into Dean's hair, nails scraping across his scalp - Sam moaned softly. It was good, feeling someone's lips on his flesh again; it had been a long time since Sam had been touched and there was something gentle and urgent, strong and affirming about the way Dean was touching him. He pushed on Dean's shoulders slightly, creating enough space between them for him to tug on the button and zipper of the man's jeans. Glancing up at Dean's expression he knew it was okay; Deans cheeks were flushed, his lips parted, damp and glistening.

Sam undid the jeans and pulled them down along with Dean's boxers. "I love your skin," he murmured as his rough palm slid up over Dean's stomach, running back along the jut of hipbone. Again, he trailed his finger tips over the bruise-dark flesh, "don't wanna hurt you." He pushed up off the bed long enough to shimmy out of his jeans then climbed over Dean and sank down against his body. It was so much more intense now they were naked; the soft was smoother, the hard was rougher and Sam could feel his dick aching so badly.

Tentative, not wanting to cause Dean anymore pain, Sam lowered himself slowly - gently. "Okay," he breathed out the moment he was pressing down against Dean's body.

Dragging his teeth down his lower lip, Dean arched up into the heat of Sam's body pressing down on him. "Not gonna hurt me," he quietly insisted, fingers dancing across Sam's arms. "God this feels good. You on me, holding me down." It was an unexpected kink, being controlled in such a way, but Dean soaked it in and revelled in the sharp thrill. "You're gorgeous," Dean murmured as he peered up at Sam.

Smiling shyly, Sam dropped all the way down and buried his face in Dean's neck. Dean's flesh was warm and smooth - and Sam couldn't help the tremor of excitement that ran down his body. "Dean," he murmured. The name felt thick and rich in Sam's mouth. Falling slightly to the side Sam ran his hands up Dean's arms and pulled them high above the other man's head. Circling his long fingers around Dean's wrists, he held his hands there - pinned to the mattress.

Dean's face was gorgeous, long dark lashes had fluttered closed across freckle covered cheeks. Lapping and sucking at a patch of skin just below Dean's ear - Sam moaned quietly as he rocked his hips forward to pressed his heavy dick against Dean's hip. "Crazy," he murmured as he dragged his lips down Dean’s throat. _Crazy_ , wanting someone so much when they hardly knew each other.

Dean wasn't even aware his body could bend the way it was, arching up into Sam's heat and rolling to create more friction. "Good. Good crazy." He groaned and tugged his hands still pinned, testing Sam's strength and no longer surprised by how it only added to the pleasure. "So so good," Dean moaned as Sam's body burned against his.

Sliding his free hand down Dean's body, dragging blunt nails across Dean's chest and over his abs. The way Dean's body curved up, following Sam's hands was hot - but then - so much of what Dean was doing was hot. Hooking his leg over one of Dean's Sam stretched his body along Dean's side, fingers slipping through rough curls at the base of the man's swollen shaft.

"Jesus," Dean gasped and jerked up into the touch, surprised by the intensity that such a brief little touch sent through him. His hands shot out to snag around Sam's neck and tug him down hard, slamming their lips together roughly. His palms moved down along the smooth lines of Sam's shoulder, fingers pressing over each bump of his spine. "Sam," Dean moaned as their lips broke apart, lungs expanding as he sucked in a deep breath.

Stroking his fist up Dean's cock Sam moaned softly. He swallowed. Thoughts of all the things that they could do together were drifting through his mind and it was making him so hard, so turned on. He wasn't even sure he knew what he knew to do with all the lust that was riding him. When he tugged gently on Dean's cock he felt the man's body arch up, listened to the sweet moan that he swallowed up in another kiss.

It wasn't the first time someone had touched his dick but Sam seemed sure, more familiar with the equipment. Dean huffed a momentary laugh before digging his heels into the mattress to gain leverage to push higher up. "We should... we could..." he actually had no idea what they could do, what came next in the progression of things, but he _wanted_ and clearly Sam did as well. ”Want to touch you," Dean mumbled, running a hand down Sam's side and leaning up for a kiss once more.

Laughing softly, Sam pulled Dean closer by slipping his free hand under the man's neck and cinching it tighter. He held Dean tight against him, like somehow they could just forget everything around them; make their own little words of flesh and sighs, soft moans and touches. Hand still stroking slowly along the ridged flesh in his hand, Sam licked and sucked his way down Dean's shoulder. "You can touch me," he grinned against Dean's arm, lifting his head slightly to gaze up at his face. "I won't break whatever you do will feel good." Sam was pretty sure that even though Dean was older than him, he was feeling a bit insecure.

Dean didn't know where to begin as far as touching went. His fingers slid repeatedly across Sam's back, curving with the muscles and shifting as Sam's moved. Dean's breath caught in his throat as his fingers slid along Sam's hip bone, inching closer to the heat of the boy. "You're just..." Dean shook his head, unable to find words as his fingers ghosted over his hard dick. It was enough to make him swallow thickly and look up into Sam's eyes, ensuring this was okay even as his fingers curled around the hard skin, squeezing enough to creature pressure.

Sam's body jolted at the touch; it was like electricity charging through his body. Closing his eyes he clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip and let his head fall down against the bed. Panting softly, hips rocking forward to chase the touch he finally managed to open his eyes and resume stroking Dean's cock. "Yeah, please," he murmured, "touch me like that." Eyes fluttering open Sam leaned forward to catch Dean's mouth with his again.

As their lips slid together Dean let the stroke of his palm match Sam's, squeezing in time with him, brushing his thumb over the slit. They rocked into each other in waves, chest half brushing as their lips continued to collide and fingers stroked. "Fuck," Dean gasped, mind spinning from the pleasure Sam's large hand around his dick brought. He thrust his hips up toward Sam's body and twisted his wrist, quickened his pace of strokes along his skin.

Dragging his mouth down Dean's neck Sam latched on to the man's Adam's apple. He sucked hard, tongue rasping over the light stubble. It was slightly salty, a light sheen of sweat covering Dean's neck and Sam hummed softly against the overheated flesh. His hips were still moving, rolling forward into Dean's hand with each downward motion of the man's hand. It wouldn’t take much more for Sam to come - just feeling the heat and pleasure that was working its way through Dean's body was turning him on so much he could barely stand it. Stroking Dean's dick faster Sam ran swept his thumb over the head and shifted his leg up higher to press against the other man's balls.

"Jesus," Dean moaned loudly and pushed his body up, lashes falling and lifting in quick succession. His fingers hesitated for a moment, temporary lost in how _good_ it felt to be touched like this, before he caught up with himself. Dean stroked swiftly along Sam's flesh and felt himself unwinding. "M'gonna," Dean half mumbled and thrust up, shuddering at the course of pleasure shooting down his spine. Toes curling for just a moment Dean felt the spark of his orgasm washing down through him, feeling the hot spray of come along his chest and working Sam in time with his keening moans.

 _God_ \- Sam had no hope of staving off his orgasm after watching Dean come. The heat of come splashing between them, the sounds that Dean made were so hot and Sam thrust a handful of times before he was coming himself. He cried out softly and bit down on Dean's shoulder, hard. His hips twitched forward, body writhing against Dean's as they both rode out the pleasure ripping through their bodies.

For all Dean knew an hour could have passed before he came back down to reality, blinking slowly as his head fell to the side, eyes fixing on Sam. "That was... yeah. Yeah." Dean nodded and slowly smiled. His body still felt like it was humming, and that was the _best_ orgasm he'd ever had. Considering this was just hand jobs, Dean could only _imagine_ how everything else would feel. "Wow," he breathed, shaking his head in amusement at himself.

Eyes heavy-lidded and half-closed, Sam wriggled as close as he could to Dean. "Fuckin' awesome," he murmured. Combing his fingers through Dean's hair, Sam smiled weakly - "What you lookin' so pleased about?"

Laughing softly, Dean shook his head once more, snuggling into Sam's side. "Just this... it's good yeah? And generally good things should happen again." Dean grinned and tilted up until his lips could meet Sam's. "We should most definitely make this happen again. Soon."

"As many times as we can fit in." Sam's smile faded a little when he realized that it wasn't a question of _if_ he would leave, it was a question of _when_. He watched a shadow pass over Dean's expression and leaned down quickly to kiss it away. "Dad says we're gonna be here for a few days yet, he wants to spend some more time with Abrah-your Dad." Rolling on to Dean's body, Sam grimaced. "Sticky," he murmured.

"Here's what I think we should do," Sam began. "We should clean up," he nodded and wrinkled his nose right before dipping down to suck on Dean's bottom lip for a few moments. "Then, you should let me take you out for food."

"Alright, yeah." Dean nodded and tilted up for another lingering kiss before rolling Sam off him. "I'll get a rag." He smiled softly at the boy, kissing him once more before climbing off the bed. He'd forgotten that Sam's time here was limited, that within a matter of days he could be gone. It made something unpleasant swim in Dean's gut. He padded silently to the bathroom across the hall and quickly wiped himself off before bringing the warm rag back to his room, sitting on the edge of the bed to clean drying come from Sam's body. "What's for food?" Dean asked, watching the way the rag moved along Sam's skin.

Humming happily Sam stretched his long frame as the cloth moved over him. His spine cracked as he stretched his arms high up above his head, fingers grazing the wall. "Something not good for us. You like pizza?" Finished his stretch, Sam settled his hand over Dean's thigh possessively. It surprised him, how much he already wanted to think of Dean as _his_.

Chuckling softly Dean nodded and snapped his rag down onto Sam's skin. "Of course. Only freaks don't like pizza." He grinned and pushed up to his feet and looked around for his jeans. "I know a place not too far from here, best pepperoni imaginable," Dean glanced over his shoulder to take in Sam's full naked body on the bed, caught for a moment in simply staring before coughing and turning back to his pursuit for his pants.

"It's okay, you know," Sam smiled as he rolled up to sit on the edge of the bed.

Looking back for just a moment Dean finally located his boxers and tugged them on, pulling on his jeans a moment later. "What's okay?" He finally asked when Sam didn't continue.

"Looking at me, I like looking at you." As if to prove his point Sam let his eyes move down Dean's body and settle on his ass for a few moments before standing and padding over to him to steal a quick kiss before turning back again to hunt down his clothes.

"We should take some pictures," Dean insisted suddenly and pulled his shirt over his head. When Sam looked back at him he couldn't help laughing. "At least one. Because I'd like to have something physical to use to remember you by." He murmured quietly, laughter trickling off as he turned away.

"It's not like I'm leavin' tomorrow." Sam dropped his gaze as he tugged his jeans up. "Enough with the depressing stuff. He stepped over to Dean once more and shoved his shirt back up to examine his bruises. "I didn't hurt you did I?' Sam could tell just by looking at Dean that there had been enough hurting in the guys life. "They look sore," the pads of his fingers trailed over the darkened flesh.

Caressing Sam's hip for a moment Dean shook his head and smiled softly. "They aren't. I'm _fine_ and you certainly didn't hurt me. Not in the slightest." He leaned up, pressing into his body so their lips could slide together. "It wasn't even rough enough to hurt me." Dean smirked and pushed Sam teasingly. "Mr. Paranoid."

Shrugging, Sam stepped back and picked up his t-shirt with a shy grin on his face. "Just care, wanna make sure you're alright." Tugging his shirt down over his head Sam combed his fingers through his hair and turned with his arms thrown out to the side. "How do I look?"

"Gorgeous?" Dean suggested and stepped forward once more, catching Sam's wrist and tugging him forward. "Hey, you know I appreciate it right? You caring I mean. I- well. There's been a lack of that on my dad's..." Dean shrugged and half smiled, stepping forward to lay his head on the boy's shoulder. "Anyway. Thanks."

Wrapping his arms tight around Dean's body Sam smiled into his hair. He wasn't sure what to say. There was something about Dean? There was a look in the man's eyes that made Sam want to get to know everything about him? He felt ... something. "I like being with you," pushing Dean back slightly he flashed a broad grin at him. "Let's go get pizza."

"Yeah, pizza," Dean nodded and took Sam's hand, squeezing softly. "I'd say this was a pretty awesome date." He grinned, dropping Sam's hand.

Sam tugged Dean toward the door, "it's just starting."


	3. Chapter 3

The song Dean was humming - something Sam had played almost ten times in the jukebox at the pizza parlour - died on his lips when he flicked on the kitchen light and spotted his dad sitting at the dining room table. "Uh, hey dad," he said slowly and unconsciously rubbed his fingers against his lips. They were still tingling from the kiss he and Sam had shared only moments before and something unpleasant twisted in the pit of his stomach. They had been standing in the shadows and to the side of the kitchen window so it was unlikely... but if his dad had seen... "What's uh, going on?"

"You and Sam went out?" The man asked though clearly he already knew the answer. "I didn't realize you two had developed any sort of... friendship."

Dean's lips twitched for a moment as he fought off a smile and an inappropriate response. "He helped with so much, is still helping. 'Cause I have so many questions about..." Dean gestured through thin air on his trip across the kitchen to the fridge. They definitely weren't at a place where the word _possession_ could be used so lightly in conversation. "Haven't you been spending some time with John?"

Abraham's jaw clenched and he looked to the side before looking back at Dean. "Mr. Winchester has answered some questions I had but I would hardly consider any of that something on a social network. I don't want you hanging out with that kid. He's definitely not any sort of a good influence."

"Excuse me?" Dean turned disbelieving eyes on his father, holding the fridge open with tight fingers curled around the handle.

"You're letting the cold air out Dean," Abraham pointed out and stood from his place by the kitchen table, lifting his mug slowly. "And you heard me."

The look in Abraham's eyes was something Dean had seen before and was certainly familiar with. It had been the same way when he wanted to spend spring break with his friends at his buddy Jeremy's place last year. He hadn't even been given the chance to explain that it wasn't a partying thing. His dad was quick to say no, put his foot down, and Dean wasn't given much say in the matter. "Dad. Sam is... you can't just say I can't hang out with him. That's not even fair."

"You have no idea what these _people_ see Dean. It's not the type of thing someone as weak as you should be dwelling on. As the Lord says Dean, Turn from evil; do good; seek peace and pursue it." He drained the coffee in his mug and headed for the sink.

Dean wanted to point out to his father that the Lord never said that at all, that some guy wrote a whole book of Psalms and for some reason the rest of the world thought he was worth listening too. There were a million things he wanted to point out, especially when it came to Sam, but he knew better. Still the words bubbled along his tongue and he shook his head. "They _do_ good. They _saved_ me dad, shouldn't that pretty much be the definition of good in your book?"

This time the look on Abraham's face told Dean he was pushing it. The tense tone of his voice confirmed it. "The Lord deemed you fit to be saved Dean and you better remember that. Those men just happened to step in when things got a little tougher. Your spirit is weak and tarnished, possibly more broken than I could know, and that's how that demon got in. If you continue to associate with Sam Winchester and his father... it's only going to invite more evil Dean. I won't allow it. And that's my final word."

Whatever Dean had as a response couldn't seem to form. He stepped back until his body could lean against the wall for support. His father would never raise a hand to him, would never strike him even in the form of punishment, but sometimes his words could be worse a physical blow. He was weak and tarnished? Was that truly how his father saw him?

Abraham was almost out of the room before Dean managed to get himself to use a type of logic the man couldn't argue against. "Judge not, that you be not judged. For with the judgment you pronounce you will be judged, and with the measure you use it will be measured to you. Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when there is the log in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye." It didn't really surprise him that he could quote the scripture so easily, his dad used to read the bible to him before bed as a kid, these things stuck.

His father turned slowly and curled his fingers around the door frame. "Excuse me? Are you attempting to quote the Lord's words to me? As if I don't know what he says? What do you expect Dean? That this would prove your innocence?"

"There's nothing to _prove_ because I'm not any of those things. I'm not weak or tarnished. I. I'm. I'm a good person. You just don't know me," Dean folded his arms across his chest and stared hard at the ground.

"You're my son. Of course I _know_ you. I'm not going to tolerate this from you Dean. You're not allowed to spend time with Sam or John Winchester and once the school year is over you'll be learning more about how weak your spirit truly is."

The words were like ice and hung in the air even after Abraham's departure. Dean blinked slowly and stared at the vacated space, something hollow growing in his chest. Of course he wouldn't listen to his dad, he'd hang out with Sam for as long as the boy was around, but the future definitely wasn't looking too promising. With a quiet sigh Dean pushed away from the wall and slowly made his way to his bedroom. There was a brand new Bible on his bed and Dean frowned down at it. Somehow the Bible only made the hollow feeling grow and Dean turned away before he got sick.

-=-=-=-

Sam tugged nervously at his collar and then straightened his tie again. His cheeks were still quite red for the laughter that had followed him from the Motel room. His Dad was highly amused by the fact that Sam had _dressed up_ even though all it amounted to was his cleanest pair of jeans, a white dress shirt and a tie under his leather jacket. The only point Sam was trying to make was that Dean was worth it. Even if John didn't get it he was pretty sure Dean would appreciate the effort _and_ the surprise date. They hadn't made plans, but Sam knew Dean would be home.

Rapping three times quickly on the door Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. His nerves were a little on edge -but it was like that every time until he was staring into those green eyes and then it was like his world settled again.

Ever since his conversation with his father Dean's nerves had been on edge, which was why the knock on his door came in early evening Dean had originally scowled. Until he pulled the door open and spotted Sam there looking, fucking amazing. "Sam," he breathed and smiled, leaning against the door frame. "You look. Hi. Wow. What are you doing here?" Dean was unable to resist reaching out to tug on the hem of the boy's leather coat. He was thankful his dad was at work so they could talk and get on the same page with things. "I was hoping I'd see you soon."

A huge grin spread across Sam's face as he pushed his hair back off his face. "I'm picking you up for a date. Grab a warm jacket and let's go." Glancing around quickly Sam ducked down for a quick kiss, "c'mon, cars runnin'."

"But... you're wearing a tie," Dean snagged the end and rolled it around his finger slowly. "Should I wear a tie?" He couldn't help meeting Sam's grin with one of his own, wondering what the boy had up his sleep.

"I'm just dressed up for _you_ , we're gonna be outside." Sam gestured nervously at the car. "I've got a, well, a kind of picnic I guess - even though it's late. Are you a little hungry?" Shuffling his feet forward he stepped into Dean's space and curled his fingers over the other man's hand.

Leaning into Sam's space Dean nodded and smiled, finger curling around Sam's belt loop. "Yeah, I'm more than a little hungry. I'll just... get my coat." Dean brushed Sam's hip bone with his fingers before spinning on his heels and heading swiftly down the hall. He couldn't believe Sam had made a picnic for _him_ and dressed up. And generally just continued to be awesome. Once he was wearing his coat and stepping into shoes, Dean headed back down the hall to Sam. "Alright, let's go. What did your dad say?" Dean asked curiously, amused already at the idea.

"My Dad? You mean about me being all dressed up?" Sam laughed and waited till Dean's shoes were on before tugging him impatiently out the door. "He laughed his freakin' ass off. Said I have a crush." Blushing, Sam waited for Dean to lock the door and continued to pull him toward the car. Not only did he want to get away from the house in case Dean's Dad was around but he wanted him alone. He might have also been a little excited about what he had planned.

"I may have a crush," Dean mumbled and laughed softly, shaking his head as they stepped up to the passenger door and Sam made a point of tugging his door open with nothing less than a dramatic flourish. "Definitely more than a crush," Dean added once he'd slid into the seat and Sam had closed the door. He watched Sam's hips sway slightly as he walked around the front of the car before climbing in behind the wheel. "So, is this all a surprise then? Outside the picnic?"

Taking a deep breath Sam slipped the car into drive and roared out of the driveway. "Kind of a surprise. I wanted," he cringed and reached out for Dean's hand, "don't think I'm stupid. Just wanted to spend some time with you, talk to you and get to know you a bit. So... yeah." The heat on Sam's cheeks was almost unbearable and he was pretty sure they were probably glowing. Heading down the highway he tried to keep his eyes on the road ahead.

A pleased grin played across Dean's lips and he squeezed Sam's hand, bringing it up to press his lips across the surface. "You're sweet. And I would _never_ laugh at such a good idea! I'm looking forward to knowing you a little bit more. A lot more. Well, you get it." Dean laughed and turned enough in the seat to put Sam in his direct line of sight.

Shrugging a shoulder Sam grinned. "Yeah, I get it." Oh, he _got_ it. In a couple of days he'd developed a stupid-ass crush on Dean that had involved primping in the mirror, enduring his Dad's teasing and dreading the day that they would have to leave town. Shaking his head, he pushed the thoughts of leaving town away. "How was your day?" Threading his fingers through Dean's was second nature and Sam loved the little thrill it gave him.

"It was uneventful," Dean shrugged and squeezed Sam's hand. In truth his father had left a note saying Dean was supposed to read a whole selection of chapters from the Bible and write on them. And he had only because not doing so would only create more issues and even being eighteen didn't spare him from his father's wrath. "How was your day? What do you guys do in between hunts?" Dean was much more curious about Sam's life than his own anyway.

"Annoy the hell out of each other." Signaling, Sam pulled off the highway onto a dirt road and slowed down a little so they didn't get thrown around too much. Chuckling softly he glanced over at Dean, "we research, Dad spends a lot of time at the Library 'cause he's too stubborn to use the laptop very often. Scour for potential cases, you know," he laughed again, "I guess you don't. News stories and testimonials that seem too suspicious. If we can find enough clues to something being supernatural then we take off after it." He smiled and squinted forward in the darkness looking for another turn off the dirt road.

Dean smiled, thinking about the two men ribbing at each other. It seemed like the bond between Sam and his father was totally opposite to the one with his own. Not that there really was a bond at all. "So by take off you mean like, literally? Will I get to say goodbye?" Dean almost choked on the words, surprised by how upsetting the very prospect of saying goodbye to Sam was. The boy was about the only thing going good for him at the moment; Dean didn't want to lose that.

"Here it is!" Sam blurted out. Pulling the car over to the side of the road he turned off the lights and peered forward, "end of the airport runway," he smiled and slid across the seat to settle against Dean's side. "Supposed to be, I dunno, romantic." The familiar heat was back in his cheeks again.

"Dean, when I leave," Sam sighed and looked down at their fingers twined together, "I really wanna stay in touch. I know I'm not some great catch or anything..." he scratched at the back of his neck nervously. "It's like - I know you and there's something there. _Shit_ , I don't know how to say it." Sometimes, Sam wished he were older and could sound less like some idiotic kid when he tried to talk about things. "I don't want to lose touch with you, and when I can, well, I wanna come back." He dropped his hand to lie along the seat behind Dean’s neck and his fingers brushed the back of his hair.

Smiling softly Dean nodded and leaned into the touch. "I promised we'd keep in touch yeah? I understand what you mean, about the _something_ that's there. I couldn't name it, but I feel it." Sam felt like a bigger part of his life than Dean could even grasp, which was a bit terrifying but much more exciting. He wanted to keep going down the path and find out where it led him. "I feel like you _get_ me and no one does. I don't even. But you do, so that's... it means something." Dean reached out and laid his hand over Sam's thigh, squeezing softly.

"Good," Sam felt relief flooding through him and the grin spread back on his face. Turning quickly he leaned over the front seat and hauled a huge paper grocery bag back with him. Glancing around for a few moments he slid back reluctantly and put the bag on the floor then dove into it popping back up with two beers. "Here," he opened one and handed it to Dean and put the extra one beside him on the seat. "Dad said he'd skin me if I had more than one but it's a special occasion."

Hair flopping down over his face Sam dove back down into the bag and sat back up with two sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. "Chicken and mayo and a bit of lettuce, hope that's okay." Rolling his bottom lip under his teeth he held one out to Dean. "I got Twinkies for dessert. I wanted ice cream but I couldn't figure out how to keep it frozen. Oh! and Strawberries. Am I a goof? Dad said I was a goof." Wrinkling his nose he fiddled with the sandwich and his eyes lifted to Dean's face.

Laughing in slightly swooned amusement, Dean shook his head. "You may be a goof, but in the most adorable way. And I'm not complaining about it." Dean popped the top on his beer and sipped to wet his tongue before taking the offered sandwich. "It all sounds great, thank you." Dean had taken a few girls out on dates but it had always been to fast food places or a step up, like Village Inn or something. This was, as Sam said, romantic, in the best way possible. "Thank you," he whispered and gave Sam a small, private smile that held most of what he was feeling.

"You're worth it," Sam's grin was crooked. "So - tell me your deepest, darkest secret." Tearing the wax paper off his sandwich and balling it up Sam took a big bite out of his sandwich. Twisting around on the seat he kicked his boot off and pulled his foot up onto the seat, tucking it under Dean's ass.

Stalling for time Dean slowly unwrapped his own sandwich and stared down at it before shrugging. "I think you know my deepest, darkest secrets. I mean the possession thing. And the maybe a little gay thing." Dean looked up to meet Sam's gaze and smiled. "So um... besides those. Which are pretty major." His lips pursed together and he stalled longer by taking a bite of his sandwich. "I hate my dad," he finally admitted after a swallow, eyes lifting to Sam's once more. "This is good," Dean held up the sandwich to signify what he meant before looking away.

Chewing slowly, Sam put his sandwich on the paper in front of him on the seat. When he'd swallowed he reached out for Dean's arm and squeezed it briefly. "Hate? That's a pretty strong word. Is it because of the way he treats you? I mean, I haven't seen it - but the things you've told me that he says." Sam blinked slowly and reached over for his beer, opening it, and taking a few sips.

With a shrug Dean grabbed his own beer and took a few long drinks. "Yeah, maybe hate is a strong word. Dislike with a passion?" Dean suggested and gave Sam a brief smile. "He just... it's always all religion with him. And I'm not saying that's bad, sometimes it's good to believe in _things_ but it's like he doesn't even realize that God didn't write the Bible. That there are dozens of _books_ from the Bible that the Catholic Church a long time ago decided weren't giving off the right image. Seriously, why does he feel like we have to live our lives to that? He doesn't even _get_ the God thing at all." Dean exhaled harshly, rolling his shoulders to ease off the slight tirade he went on. "Sorry, I may be a bit passionate about the subject."

"Well, with all the bad things I've seen I'd sure like to believe in some of the good stuff." Confusion furrowed Sam's brow for a few moments while he thought about the fact that they'd seen so much evil and so little good. "I look for good in people. I mean, it probably sounds stupid but with so much shit - you know - demons and ghosts and spirits I can't help feeling like it's up to us to be the _good_." Retrieving his sandwich off the seat Sam took another bite, thoughtful.

Dean laid his free hand over Sam's calf and massaged softly. "Some people think that humans are inherently evil. They think that one act written about in the Bible condemned everyone from then on out." His eyes scanned across the landscape in front of them and Dean slowly shook his head. "I don't want to believe that. If there is a God and we're all just doomed to be evil creatures who hate and fight and tear this world apart, then why does he even bother? There has to be good right? To make up for the evil?" Dean looked over at Sam, a little surprised by how serious their conversation suddenly was.

"Well, I _think_ so. You don't believe that people are born evil do you? I mean - kids, man, they're adorable. They can't be evil." Sam blinked and put his sandwich down, wrapped it up and put it back in the bag. "There has to be something opposite to Demons. Everything has an opposite. That's how, I mean," he shifted a little on the seat so he could move a little closer, "that's how we hunt, yeah?" Sliding his fingers over Dean's he smiled. "We exorcise Demons reading religious rites, we... we use pure things like salt and silver to repel things that are all twisted inside - twisted and wrong." Sam's eyes widened a little when he realized is was getting a little worked up. "I don't know, I mean I've never seen an angel or seen a person repel a Demon on their own."

Squeezing Sam's hand Dean nodded and leaned toward Sam. "I think we're born good. Some people do evil things, and some are worse than others, but it's what makes us human I suppose. My dad thinks I'm evil." Dean frowned and reclaimed his sandwich, taking a large bite. Once he'd swallowed, Dean looked back at Sam and half laughed. "Of course my dad thinks just about everyone is evil. You know, he forbid me to hang out with you anymore. And he's making me write papers about Bible verses. Like that's gonna purify me or something." Sighing softly Dean shook his head and drained two large swallows of beer from the can.

"Forbid? Me? What did I do? Doesn't he know that we helped you?" Surprisingly, a spark an anger ignited somewhere in the pit of Sam's stomach. Withdrawing his hand he fiddled with the cuff of his jacket sleeve. "I mean, his religion wasn't doing anything was it?" He took a few sips of beer and rubbed his thumb over the smooth surface of the can.

Frowning at the sudden change Dean laid his hands in his lap and shrugged. "That's just how he is. He thinks all the things you guys see, that it's bad, and that you're not a good influence on me. Which is fucking ridiculous because I'm _eighteen_ , not a child. I don't care what he says; I'm certainly not going to follow his rule." Dean peered down at his sandwich before lifting it and forcing himself to take a bite.

"We help people." Sam's voice was soft. It wasn't like he hadn't wondered sometimes if seeing all this evil was bad, would wear off on him somehow. Maybe he was tainted - or he would be if he kept going on hunt after hunt. Finally, forcing himself to look up at Dean and reached out and trailed his fingers down the man's cheek. "You don't think that I'm-" he cleared his throat, _fuck_ , why did it matter so damn much what Dean thought of him? "You don't think I'm bad - a bad influence do you?" Blinking slowly in the darkness Sam shifted a little closer.

"What?" Dean blinked in disbelief and quickly shook his head. "No. Not at all. You- I mean- you're the first person I really felt connected to. That can't possibly be bad. And you and I... the things we feel together, that definitely isn't bad." With a smile Dean leaned forward until his forehead could rest against Sam's. "I'm ruining our romantic date. Let's not talk about that crap anymore okay? I want all the time I have left with you to be amazing." Tipping his head slightly Dean brushed their lips together before settling back in his seat to resume eating his sandwich

"That's easy," Sam reached out and curled his fingers around the back of Dean's neck, "any time I get to spend with you is amazing." That was an absolute truth. Sam got along pretty great with his Dad considering how much time they spent together in the confines of the car but this was _so_ different, special. "Dean?" Sam tightened his grip on Dean's hair.

Settling into Sam's side Dean inhaled his scent slowly and curled his fingers over Sam's thigh. "Yeah?" He had a brief moment where he considered how nice it would be to stay like this forever before he pushed the thoughts away before they could hurt.

"You're gonna be okay right? With your Dad, I mean?" Already, there was some part of Sam who couldn't stand the thought of anyone treating Dean badly - like he was something broken or wrong. He also knew that his Dad would tell him he was being an idiot if he said he wanted to stay in town because of a few days with _some guy_. Turning, Sam settled back against the door and pulled Dean up to rest against his chest. Lips ghosting over Dean's soft hair, he smiled, "I.. I can't stand the idea of something happening to you."

Relaxing back into Sam's chest Dean considered the best way to answer. He didn't want Sam to spend time worrying about him once he moved on. "I'll be okay. I'll graduate soon, and then I can figure something out. Get out on my own." Dean liked the way he settled against Sam like this, how strong and firm the boy was. "Hey maybe once I finish school we can go do something. I'll have some time to be free for awhile, maybe we could meet up somewhere." He smiled softly at the idea of going somewhere with Sam, spending some uninterrupted time with him.

Tightening his arms around Dean, Sam smiled. "Like a mini vacation, only let's not drive." He laughed into Dean's hair and pressed his hand against Dean's chest. "Sometimes, I get so tired of being on the move. You know, I’ve never really stayed long enough anywhere to even get to know anyone." Restless fingers were moving in small circles on Dean's chest. "One day, I want a house or something - somewhere I can work on the car and put my clothes on hangers. You know - _Jesus_ \- all my clothes are like folded up in my duffel bag all the damn time." He chuckled again and nuzzled against Dean's temple until the man moved enough for him to kiss his cheek softly. "What would you change about your life right now?" He whispered the words almost against Dean's ear, lips tickling the shell of the man's ear.

Heat curled down his spine, causing Dean's eyes to flutter for a moment as he shifted back into Sam's chest. "Right now?" He slowly wet his lips and considered all the possibilities. "I would go with you," Dean finally whispered, suddenly glad Sam couldn't see into his eyes considering the sharp prick of tears that stung along his eyelids. "I wouldn't let you go without me." His fingers curled into Sam's thighs and he rocked his hips back slightly to adjust on the seat and change the direction of the conversation.

The way Sam's heart was pounding; he figured he could just keep Dean there forever. He shifted a little on the seat, squeezing his legs against Dean's hips and lowering his hand to slip his fingers under the hem of the man's t-shirt. "You'd hate being stuck in the car with me," Sam bit down on this bottom lip for a few moments. "Dad says I fidget too much and I make obnoxious noises when I eat – ‘specially chips." It was stupid but the weight of the conversation was getting to be too much for Sam. There was nothing he wanted more than to just keep Dean with him but he knew exactly what his Dad would say. John had already given him a quick _John-like_ lecture about summer flings and being sixteen years old and hormones and all kinds of other things that Sam _really_ hadn't wanted to hear.

The heat of Dean's ass _right_ against his crotch was driving Sam completely crazy. Blowing out a warm breath against Dean's neck - Sam whispered, "you ever had a boyfriend before?" His hips rocked up gently against Dean's ass and heat _shot_ through Sam's body making it hard to even concentrate on talking.

"Mm nope," Dean shook his head and let his head drop back to Sam's shoulder, turning to work his lips over his skin. "You gonna be my boyfriend?" Dean murmured against his skin and rolled his hips back to meet the way Sam's rocked forward. He could feel how turned on Sam was, could feel the hard line pressing through layers of denim and cotton and a moan slipped from his lips. The very _idea_ of the way they were sitting, what it meant and what it could be, made Dean a little bit crazy. His mind flashed with the sudden image of Sam bending him over, taking him, and Dean scraped his teeth over Sam's skin.

"I'll be your," Sam gasped as Dean's lips moved against his neck, "boy...boyfriend." He dragged his hand up his _boyfriend's_ chest until his fingers could brush teasingly over an already hard nipple. Free hand sliding down of Dean's waistband, Sam swallowed, "you make me -" his voice was thick and almost jammed in his chest, " _Fuck_ I want you." The words slipped out before Sam could stop them; hissing in a breath he slid his hand down over the front of Dean's pants and squeezed his fingers around the growing bulge there.

Moaning louder, Dean's hips moved up into the press of Sam's hand then he ground back and down into his boyfriend, smiling at the internal usage of the word. "Y-yeah?" He murmured thickly and reached behind him to curl his fingers over Sam's hipbones. "How? How do you want me?" Letting his head fall back once more Dean kissed every inch of Sam's neck he could manage, sliding over the salty skin and memorizing the taste of him.

Stretching his arms back around Dean, Sam fumbled with the button on the man's jeans then tugged the zipper down. He'd waited as long as he wanted too to get his hands on Dean, he knew that Dean was as worked up as he was and didn't see the point in torturing either of them. Well, not in a _bad_ way. Shoving at the denim he managed to get his hand down inside Dean's jeans and boxers and suddenly had a hand full of hard, stiff flesh and a boyfriend who was writhing up into his hand.

"Oh." Dean sucked in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering closed as he arched up into Sam's hand as much as he could in the confined space. _God_ Sam's hand on his skin, the way it sent pleasure through him was intoxicating. He made a point of rolling back into Sam's hard dick with every move forward, trying to drive his boyfriend just as crazy as he was being driven. "Fuck Sam, s'good," the words came out in a gasped murmur and Dean tightened his hold on Sam's hips, legs pressing against leather.

There would never be enough of watching Dean like this. _Never_. Sam could barely hold onto his boyfriend - he was writhing up, hips jolting forward to get more contact and sinking back down and grinding his ass against Sam's crotch. He knew this was going to be one of those things he'd remember his whole life. The smell of Dean's hair, and skin was all around him and Sam breathed in deeply. None of this would ever leave his mind, the squeaking of his leather jacket against the door, the soft and sweet moans from Dean's mouth, the heaving breaths - already - he couldn't imagine leaving Dean behind.

Straining his arm to reach lower on Dean's body Sam moaned softly and turned into Dean's mouth - sucking and licking his way into the wet heat of his boyfriend's mouth. Two days and he loved kissing Dean - it felt so natural, perfect - each slide of silky lips sent small shivers of _want_ spinning through Sam's body. After shifting once more, tugging Dean closer and thrusting his tongue forward into his mouth - Sam was finally able to get his fingers curled around his boyfriend's dick and stroke slowly.

Breathing in sharply through his nose Dean pressed harder back, twisting to get his lips against Sam's. His hands slid forward to push at his jeans, wiggling them down his thighs and granting Sam more access to his skin. "Sam," he gasped as Sam's fingers squeezed for a moment. "I want..." he moaned low in his throat and thrust up into Sam's hand. He had no idea how out of control Sam could make him feel, how much it could make his body shutter and writhe almost out of his control.

"I wanna make you feel good," Sam murmured, lips dragging across the light stubble on Dean's cheek. He sucked his boyfriend's ear lobe into his mouth and rolled it gently between his teeth while his fist continued its steady rhythm on the rigid shaft. _God_ , the heat radiating off Dean's body was amazing. Jammed back against the door, Sam's back was aching slightly but he found it really hard to care. Sliding his free hand across Dean's stomach he could felt the way his abs tightened each time his spine twisted, each time he thrust his dick forward into Sam's grip. "You're so fuckin' sexy," Sam couldn't help blushing -but there was just no other way to describe Dean. The way he was moving all liquid and smooth - he was just _sex_.

Pushing around, Dean spun out of Sam's grasp and knelt on the seat between Sam's legs, falling forward to crush his lips against Sam's. There wasn't enough space for them here, cramped into the front seat, but Dean was going to make do with the room he had. His leg hit the steering wheel hard and his jeans made it difficult to move but his hands tugged up into Sam's hair and pulled back. Dean wanted to kiss Sam as hard as possible, wanted to taste every inch of him, and his hands dropped hard onto his shoulders. Denim finally slid between his fingers and Dean fumbled with it, pulling the button of his boyfriend's jeans up hard to slide it free and tug roughly at the zipper. "God," he groaned into Sam's mouth and tugged him up off the seat slightly to pull at the jeans.

Arching up off the seat Sam kicked and shoved to get his jeans further down his body. He wanted Dean's hands on him, anywhere, it didn't matter. Straining forward, frustrated, he grabbed the back of Dean's neck and yanked him forward again into a rough kiss. Nails digging in to the back of the man's neck Sam opened his mouth wide, tongue sliding forward to sweep over every part of Dean's mouth. Moaning into the kiss he let his hands trail down Dean's back until they could settle over the bare flesh of his ass.

Before now Dean hadn't realized the way in which his body could bend but he tested it, sliding against Sam's body and pulling him until his knees bent up and back laid flat along the seat. They slid and moved together, getting tangled in clothing they both tried to remove at the same time. Dean felt like he was inhaling Sam's air whenever he pulled back enough to breathe and his mind was swimmingly dizzy, spinning into overdrive. "Sam, god, you're making me crazy," Dean shook his head in almost disbelief and pulled his boyfriend up enough to tug his shirt up over his head, sending it over the backseat and falling back down to taste the stretched skin across his chest.

"Dean," Sam said hoarsely. He was panting softly, breath quick and shallow as he tried to shift around and grip the bottom of Dean's shirt. The windows were fogged, the car only lit by the small amount of moonlight that managed to slip in the windows. Every now and again, Dean would move a certain way and Sam would catch the glint of light in his boyfriend's eyes. _Gorgeous_. The word kept rolling through Sam's mind. Throwing Dean's t-shirt into the back seat Sam brushed his fingers over the man's chest then finally settled both hands on his hips.

It took more work than he anticipated, climbing back enough to wiggle the rest of the way out of his jeans. Dean was winded in the best way imaginable and his eyes slid over the barely visible flush on Sam's body. He wondered briefly if there would be more room in the backseat but his fingers were drawn to Sam's waistline and he nearly lifted the boy up to pull the material off, huffing as Sam squirmed to get free. "Wanna feel," Dean muttered and wrapped his fingers around Sam's dick, stroking slowly as his knees pressed down into the car mat. "No room," he complained with a faint laugh, falling forward to capture Sam's lips in another kiss.

Sam had wanted Dean's heat against him again, the sweat-slick flesh pressed up against him. He tugged Dean even closer, completely convinced that if they were close enough he could feel the distant thumping of Dean's heart. Lashes fluttering closed; Sam ran his tongue along the flat surface of Dean's teeth. His hips twitched up every time Dean touched him, every time fingers ghosted across his flesh. "We could move," he murmured into Dean's mouth, then sucked on his bottom lip.

"Want you over me," Dean quietly insisted before capturing Sam's lips with his own once more, tongue working forward with slow swipes. His fingers twitched along every inch of Sam's body he could reach, constantly moving down and forward and any way possible that would draw Sam's flesh into his. He was searching for _more_ , pushing the limits because he'd never wanted someone _so_ badly. And some part of him seemed convinced that this moment could last forever if they just kept touching.

"Get up," Sam shoved roughly at Dean and pulled his legs up until he could kneel for a moment. Shaking his head, trying to clear the lust for a few moments he climbed over the seat and gazed back at Dean. "Well, get over here," he growled.

The way Sam words sounded sent a shudder down Dean's body and he scrambled forward, fumbling over the seat and falling into the back ungracefully. He grinned and parted his lips to say something but Sam cut him off with another hard kiss. Dean melted into it, allowing his boyfriend to lay him back against the cool leather of the backseat. There was much more room here and Dean spread his legs, crooking one up to give Sam enough room to settle in between.

Sam held his upper body up off of Dean's and his eyes went straight to Dean's face. Wriggling his hips slightly he settled down in the V of Dean's legs, hissing as his dick slid against the heat of his boyfriends. " _God_ ," he growled. He rocked forward again, loving the feel of hard flesh against hard flesh. "Dean," dipping down he buried his face into the crook of the man's neck, lapping at the salty sweat that was glistening on his flesh.

There weren't even words to describe the way Dean's mind seemingly spun off course when Sam's skin met his. Dean groaned and let his head fall back further to give his boyfriend more room to explore. His fingers curled into Sam's back, dragging along the skin and pressing hard enough there would likely be red marks. Not really bothering to care about that, Dean pressed hard and pushed his hips forward into Sam's, moaning loudly as their dicks slid together.

Sucking hard on the hot flesh of Dean's neck, Sam moaned and rolled his hips constantly. Finally, sinking down onto Dean's body all the way he slid his hand forward to cup the side of Dean's neck. The heat of Dean's blood was drawing up into the skin as he sucked hard, teeth grazing the skin. Ever since the first time he'd seen Dean's bruises, the marks across his body - Sam had wanted to leave a mark. A kinder, gentler mark that would mean something _so_ different. Grinding hard against Dean's hips Sam moaned again and his lips pulled away. Glancing down he smiled at the darkening bruise low on Dean’s neck.

Panting, Dean slowly shook his head and smiled up at Sam. "You just gave me a hickey didn't you?" His fingers slid down Sam's side and he laughed roughly, voice hoarse from the intense arousal rocking through him. "Maybe you should give me some other ones, that I can discover later." Dean thought about standing in front of the mirror and looking at the places Sam had marked him. It made his hips snap up slightly just at the thought, rolling forward and moaning as their skin collided. "I wanna taste you," Dean murmured, fingers sliding across Sam's ass slowly.

Huffing out a laugh, Sam slid down Dean's body a little and sucked and bit his way across the man's collar bone. Scratching his nails down Dean's chest, Sam muttered, "relax..." _Fuck_ , if Dean's lips went anywhere near his dick right now he'd come - almost instantly - he knew it. Catching Dean's nipple between a thumb and forefinger he rode the wave up of Dean's body as his spine bowed up into the pleasure he was feeling. Dropping one knee down to the floor of the car Sam slid down and licked at Dean's belly - tip of his tongue darting into his boyfriend's belly button before dragging down over the downy hair just above his dick. Dean was hard, his dick thick and heavy, red and weeping; Sam slid his hand over Dean's balls and squeezed.

Groaning, low in his throat for the seemingly thousandth time, Dean arched up into the touch of Sam's fingers. How the fuck he was supposed to relax was beyond on him. Sam's flesh against his was enough to make him so close to the edge it was almost impossible to fight off. "Sam..." he moaned and writhed along the car seat, digging his heels into the car door in effort to push his body further up into his boyfriend's hand. "You're just... c'mon _more_ ," Dean didn't care that he was pleading; he just enjoyed the idea that it might make Sam a little more insane.

Eyes wide, Sam soaked up every movement of Dean's body - watching the way his muscles rippled, clenching and relaxing. Leaning forward Sam ran his cheek up the length of Dean's arousal, closed his eyes and placed a gentle kiss against the head; his tongue darted out to lap up the pre-come and he moaned softly. Moving his fingers against Dean's balls, he rolled them, squeezing gently then tugging.

Sucking in quick breaths Dean rocked up into the touch, hand pushing down until he caught Sam's hair and threaded his fingers through the soft silk. Dean hadn't expected the wonderful thrill of warm heat coursing through him and squeezed his eyes shut. " _Fuck_ ," Dean gasped and pushed forward desperately, far too eager for his own good. His teeth slid along his lower lip, pressing hard into the skin and wondering briefly if his moans could be heard from outside the car.

" _God_ ," Sam breathed. The taste of Dean's come still lingering on his tongue Sam parted his lips and sank them down over the head of his boyfriend's dick. It was wider than he thought and he moaned as the fiery flesh slid quickly past his lips. Sucking slowly, he let his tongue circle around the ridges and curves as he explored. He'd had blow jobs before, couple from girls and one guy he'd met in a high school somewhere. But this, this was different. Dean was something else, something _more_. He sucked harder, fingers moving over Dean's hips to hold him.

Trying not to force Sam's head down hard and along his dick, Dean gasped and writhed, stuck in the same pattern of responses. It was like Sam was shutting off some part of his brain and he couldn't think beyond _holy fuck Sam's mouth_. By this point he couldn't get his eyes to open, and he could hear his blood racing in his ears. Every sweep of Sam's tongue and lips along his skin seemed to make his heart skip beats until it felt like he shouldn't still be breathing. It was a little terrifying, like maybe Sam was literally going to kill him via a blow job.

Sam sank his mouth down lower, swallowing and shifting so he could pull more of Dean's heat inside his mouth. Curling his fingers around the base of Dean's shaft he squeezed gently and leaned forward until his lips reached his hand. Humming quietly he ended up moaning. The taste, the musky smell of Dean's body - everything whirled around Sam - he started to feel like everything was a dream - or some kind of messed up dream. Sucking harder he pressed his tongue against the rigid flesh and felt Dean rise up again - pushing his hips up off the back seat.

The sound falling from Dean's lips was a sure sign he was done for before Sam could even suck in a breath. Of course Dean was losing himself in the moment, set into constant motion and his eyes finally fluttered open. This was the final trigger, the sight of Sam's lips stretched around his flesh. Dean moaned loudly and tugged on Sam's hair in warning, not even managing a word before he his muscles were tensing and his orgasm was flaring through him. For a moment he half stuttered Sam's name before the word disappeared in loud moans.

The flood of hot come shocked Sam at first but the throb of his boyfriend's dick in his mouth was so hot that Sam's own hips shot forward against the edges of the seat. He couldn't hold back and as he swallowed, tongue sliding in his boyfriend's release Sam moaned and sucked in a breath then jolted forward again, coming so hard his vision blacked out. Pulling back off Dean's shaft Sam fell forward, panting, arms wrapped tight around Dean's hips.

Dean sucked in quick breaths until he felt like the world wasn't tilting dangerously beneath him. Finally he blinked his eyes open and smoothed a hand through his boyfriend's hair, smiling in post blown haze. "Damn that was hot," he grumbled and sighed with an air of contentment. "Did you need..." Dean rubbed Sam's arm slowly, sliding up to cup the back of his neck and tug him up slowly.

Shaking his head slowly Sam could feel a heat creeping up over his cheeks. Averting his eyes he smiled shyly. "No, I..." He slid his cheek down Dean's and lapped at the sweat covered skin. Sucking in a deep breath, he kneeled up and fumbled around on the floor until he found his t-shirt. Wiping himself off then cleaning the seat he climbed up and looked over at Dean nervously. "Sorry, you're just," he sucked in another breath and blew it out, "you're hot and you taste-" he closed his mouth quickly and dropped his gaze. Sometimes, it sucked being sixteen and being _so_ turned on he felt like he was gonna die from it.

Grinning slowly Dean shrugged and pulled Sam forward, kissing him hard. He thrust his tongue into the boy's mouth and chased his taste around until there was nothing left but Sam. When he finally pulled back he was breathless and significantly colder. "It's hot. Trust me." He murmured softly and let his nose brush against Sam's. "You're hot. Together we're like fire or something equally... hot." Dean snorted at himself and shook his head. "Gimme a break, just had my brain sucked out my cock."

Laughing against Dean's lips, Sam couldn't help shivering slightly. Flailing a hand down on the floor he found his leather jacket and crawled back to lean against the door. "Can we stay a little longer?" He held out his hand, "c'mere." He really wanted Dean back against him again, lying on his chest so he could hold him. It felt like that's where he belonged. His eyes were wide in the darkness, hand held out.

Taking Sam's hand Dean settled into his body and curled against him, sighing once more. "I like being here with you," he murmured quietly and pressed his lips to Sam's chest, breathing in his scent slowly. "Could just stay here forever," Dean murmured and blinked slowly, eyes growing heavier.

Spreading the jacket out over them Sam tucked it around Dean. "Me too," he murmured into his boyfriend's hair. "I never had boyfriend before." Warmth settled deep in his belly at the idea and he couldn't help smiling again. He really could stay there for the rest of the night quiet happily; he loved the feel of Dean's breath puffing out warm and moist against his chest.

"Yeah," Dean agreed and nodded, arm settling around Sam's waist. "Next time I get to suck you," he pointed out and grinned, keeping his eyes closed.

"Next time I'm gonna insist." Sam grinned and nuzzled into Dean's hair. "You think-" He licked his lips, "maybe more before I go?" He held his breath wondering if he was wanting too much too soon.

"Like... more stuff?" Dean blinked his eyes open slowly and tilted his head up to peer at Sam. "Like... what did you have in mind? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I'd be okay with- you know, with basically anything." It was completely true; Dean wanted Sam way more than he was prepared to admit.

Shrugging a shoulder Sam closed his eyes and slid a hand up through Dean's hair. "Like, I dunno, sex..." his voice trailed off and he massaged the back of Dean's head. "I want to," he swallowed, "fuck you." The words didn't seem right - made it seem something less than what it should be but it was the only way Sam could describe it. And, hell, that _was_ what he wanted. The idea of being inside Dean, feeling that heat everywhere and watching his boyfriend come apart under him - _Jesus_ \- it was the best image ever. "It's okay if you don't want to, I mean I know that I'm young and - and I'm not all that classy or anything, you know..."

A flush grew across Dean's face and he swallowed thickly, struggling to get his mind to work. It felt like his body was already stirring once more and Dean squirmed slightly so his dick wasn't in direct contact with his boyfriend's body. Just in case. "Uh... yeah. Yes. I want. Yeah, I want that," Dean nodded and pressed his lips to Sam's collarbone. "God the idea alone," he grumbled and smiled slowly, pressing his fingers into Sam's side. "I want my first time to be with you." Truthfully there was a part of Dean that wanted Sam to be his _only_ but that was probably more of a teenager thing, easy to fall in love. If you could call it that. Which Dean thought he could.

Relief washed over Sam and his shoulders dropped. He hadn't even noticed quite how tense he was once he'd finally managed to get the words out. Heart thudding away in his chest Sam hooked his leg over Dean's and pulled the jacket tighter around them. "Do you have to go back home to night?"

Considering the consequences of not going home, Dean frowned for a moment before shaking his head. "No. I don't have to go back. I just gotta call and leave a message. I'll tell my dad I'm staying at Jeremy's." Dean pushed up enough to stare into Sam's eyes. "We gonna sleep in your car?" He grinned, amused at the idea.

Excitement flooded through Sam's body. "My Dad's gone out of town for tonight. I have, I mean, there's the hotel room. S'not very nice but it's clean and we could," he shrugged. "I'd really like it - and we might not get another chance..." The words kind of hung there between them, the unspoken acknowledgment that Sam would have to leave sooner rather than later.

Some part of Dean's mind warned that he should be smart about things, should really think and consider if this was the smartest course of action. But it was Sam. And even after only a few days, that meant more than most things in his life. "Yeah. Okay. Let's go there." Dean brushed their lips together, leaning into Sam to make the kiss linger. When he pulled back he smiled and bumped his nose against Sam's. "We can sleep in the same bed and everything."

"That's what I want...most." Sam had never fallen asleep next to anyone - not even as some stupid sleepover lined up in sleeping bags with friends. It just seemed like it would feel so safe and warm and - Sam could _feel_ that he was turning into the biggest sap alive. "Are you cold? I'm _frozen_ " Sam laughed - almost giddy now that he knew that Dean was coming back with him. "What d'ya say we got back to my room and have our Twinkies?"

For a moment Dean just stared at Sam then he burst into laughter, too loud in the quiet space of the car. It felt like he laughed for too long, not even sure if Sam joined in before finally calming down enough to suck in a deep lungful of air. "Whoa. Sorry," he gasped and shook his head. "I got drunk off you I guess. But that amused me. Greatly." Dean nodded and grinned at Sam, shuffling up in search for his clothing.

Sam was still chuckling as he tried to wriggle back into his jeans. He kept bumping into Dean which, of course, resulted in a kiss almost every time. When he grabbed his shirt he grimaced and tossed it back onto the floor opted for just pulling his jacket on. Shivering slightly he wiped at the condensation on the window and peered outside before pushing the door open and climbing out of the car. "Jesus," he groaned as he stretched his arms up over his head, "I'm way too tall for that back seat." Holding out his hand for Dean he grinned down at him.

Taking Sam's hand Dean allowed himself to be pulled from the car and he stretched as well. He wasn't nearly as tall as Sam but he was close and hadn't even realized how cramped he was until he was free. "Let's go back to your motel room," Dean grinned at him and pressed forward for a kiss. A sharp jolt of anticipation and excitement crawled through him and Dean stumbled away to climb into the passenger seat.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam had never been more nervous about anything. Considering he had just finished his first demon exorcism and had faced down a werewolf and a shape-shifter that was saying something. He slipped into bed beside Dean; the sheets were fresh and crisp and rasped over his bare skin. He was so used to the smell of Motel rooms that he didn't even really think about it anymore. This time, all he could smell was _Dean_. Shifting closer to Dean he blew out a shaky breath and draped his arm over his boyfriend's waist. "You always feel so warm," he murmured.

"Warm blooded and all," Dean mumbled, attempting to hide his nerves with the offhand, casual remark. His eyes drifted along Sam's face, fingers following a moment later, mapping out the smooth lines of his jaw. "I'm nervous," he finally admitted, smiling uncertainly up at Sam and shrugging. "It's a good nervous, but it's there none-the-less." Tucking under the sheets Dean moved closer to Sam until there was not even an inch of space between them.

"Me too," Sam whispered. His arm slid further down around Dean's back, fingers brushing the top of his ass. "We ... is it okay? I mean, I don't mind. Really?" Sam let his lips barely graze across Dean's, "I'm quite happy if we just sleep here, together." Blinking slowly he smiled against his boyfriend's mouth.

Humming softly Dean shook his head slowly. "It's okay. More than okay. Definitely." Dean deepened the kiss, enjoying the way his lips tingled even though they were already plump and numb from all the kissing before. "I want... god I can't even tell you. I got this idea in my head of you on me, and I can't escape it. It's literally driving me crazy." Chuckling softly Dean pressed into the kiss once more.

Sam's dick throbbed at Dean's words and he rolled quickly over onto him. Pinning Dean down against the mattress he smiled and took his mouth again, tongue sliding forward over his lover's lips. "Like this?" His dick was already full and heavy, pressing hard against the smooth skin of Dean's hip. Rolling his body down and forward he rubbed along the length of Dean's body and moaned into the kiss.

Moaning quietly Dean nodded, head digging back into the pillow. "Y-yeah. Like this." He arched his body up into Sam's, as much as possible, and leaned up to capture Sam's neck between his lips. He sucked hard enough to pull a bruise to the surface and fell back when he was sure the area was marked. Dean smiled at the mark and ran a finger across it, blinking slowly. "You're definitely some kind of crazy."

"Mhmmm," Sam's lips buzzed against Dean's and he chuckled softly. Smile fading slowly he held himself up over Dean's body and stared down into those dark green eyes yet again. "You're really special, you know." His voice was deep, sandpaper rough and even as heat was rising to his cheeks Sam sank his body down and licked his boyfriend's mouth open again. Heat flooded Sam's body; he'd never wanted anything so much and been so scared all at the same time. Arms trembling slightly he tucked both hands under Dean's head, tilting the man's head to the side so he could deepen the kiss.

Dean's heart fluttered in his chest as he moulded up into Sam's body, opening his mouth wide, allowing his boyfriend to search every inch of his mouth. It was amazing how easily Sam could reduce him to a puddle of nearly nothing all at once. His arms wrapped around Sam's body, pulling him in tight and holding him there. As far as Dean was concerned, they could kiss for hours and he'd be content. Especially with Sam over him like this. He moaned into his boyfriend's mouth and rolled his hips forward to slide friction over his hard cock.

Gasping into Dean's mouth - Sam's hips rocked down again - his entire body was a wave of muscles contracting and relaxing. _God_ , he just didn't ever feel like he was close enough to Dean and it scared him so _fucking_ much. Heart clenching tight Sam slid off Dean's body so he could run his hand down the length of him. There was nothing about Dean's body that Sam wanted to forget; the coppery colour of his nipples and the way they hardened so quickly when he teased them, the curves of his muscles and how they fluttered and rippled under Sam's palm. Eyes wide, panting, Sam dragged his palm down over Dean's cock - swallowing thickly as anticipation sparked through him - he spread his fingers wide over Dean's thigh and massaged the muscle.

There were so many things in Sam’s mind. He'd spent enough time on the Internet to know _how_ sex happened, how it worked, what he had to do - but _fuck_ \- having Dean spread out beside him like this was making it really hard for him to breathe.

Falling back onto his pillow Dean gasped softly, sucking a breath in a moment later. He could just imagine Sam's hand moving up, exploring yet untouched parts of his body. "Sam," he breathed and threaded his fingers up through Sam's hair and squeezed. "Do you have, I mean, you know um, things?" He flushed and felt stupid for being embarrassed by such a practical question.

Nodding slowly, Sam actually felt a little relieved. "I - yeah, I do." Sam shrugged and ducked down to sink his teeth into his boyfriend's shoulder. "I'm good at research," he muttered. He stroked his hand back across Dean's swollen dick, kissed away the bite and rolled away for a moment to grab the lube off the night table. Holding it up for a moment he placed it carefully on Dean's chest. "Oh," his smile faded, "did you mean a condom?" Blushing furiously Sam shifted back a little, "I didn't think, because - I mean, I've never and you..." He shrugged and pushed up. "There's a drug store down the street, I can go and get some, uh, one." He smiled down at Dean, "don't go anywhere?"

"I just meant the lube," Dean was quick to explain, pushing up to his elbows. "I. Yeah, I mean I've never. And you've never. So it's okay right? I kind of want to feel all of you." They were both blushing by this point, and both were hard, and Dean bit his lip over a grin. "We're such fumbling virgins. I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be all smooth and stuff. At least it is in porn." Dean grinned and lifted his hand to smooth down Sam's side.

Laughing softly, Sam wrinkled his nose and dived back down over Dean. "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not smooth. And _you_ are _so_ much better than any kind of porn." Snatching up the lube Sam held it in his hand to warm it and took advantage of Dean's position to crush their mouths together again. Anxiety morphed back into anticipation as their laughter faded and Sam's free hand slid down his boyfriend's body to settle once more around his arousal.

Dean kissed Sam roughly back, channeling his nerves into the intensity of the kiss. "Sam," Dean breathed as he fell back, exhaling slowly. It wasn't really a request and Dean realized he just enjoyed saying Sam's name. It was pleasant and warm on his tongue so he repeated it and smiled softly up at him. "I want everything. But, we'll go slowly? Just in case? I haven't ever touched myself there or anything." His face couldn't possibly get redder but Dean felt the heat radiating on his cheeks.

"I'd never hurt you," Sam murmured. Leaning across Dean's chest Sam kissed a path down his lover's neck, pausing to nip gently at his Adam's apple. Rolling to straddle Dean's hips, Sam bent down and licked and teased his way down. His tongue flicked over hard nipples and he rolled each one between his teeth in turn, moaning softly as Dean's chest pressed up into the touch.

Further down his lover's body Sam gripped Dean's hips, thumbs digging hard into the dip just below his hip bones. _God_ , it was one of the best parts of Dean's body - the way the bone jutted out just below his abs. Diving down Sam sucked at random patches of skin across Dean's abs, his lower belly, the sensitive and silken skin just at the top of his thigh.

For the second time in one night Dean was at a total loss because of the way Sam's lips felt on his skin. A low, guttural moan fell from his lips and his fingers curled down into the bed sheets, body pushing up off the mattress as his heels found purchase along the bed. He wanted everything all at once, heart doing its now familiar slam against his chest. "Fuck, so good," he mumbled, low and deep as he writhed beneath Sam's lips.

Smiling softly, Sam hummed quietly. He wasn't even going to try and speak - he could hardly breath and could feel his hands trembling as he moved lower on Dean's body. Kneeling between his boyfriend's legs Sam pushed them back slightly, eyes widening as they trailed down over Dean's body. Like it was drawn there, his hand moved up to the swollen flesh of Dean's cock. The skin was ridged, and dark, the head glistening as pre-come leaked from it. Moaning, Sam flicked the lid on the lube and poured some on his fingers. Lifting his gaze to Dean's face Sam slid his hand down over Dean's balls and rubbed gently at the puckered skin of his ass.

At first Dean's body instinctively shied away from the touch but he pushed against it and rolled back down until Sam's fingers slid over the skin once more. His eyes fixed up on Sam, staring intently as pleasure shot up his spine. There was something so _forbidden_ about the brief touch alone that had Dean moaning through slightly parted lips. The nerves and anticipation were back full force now but Dean spread his legs wider, offering Sam more room to explore, too curious to deny him anything before they'd even begun. He nodded in silent encouragement and scraped his teeth over his bottom lip.

Leaning down, Sam dragged his tongue up the length of Dean's cock. Flicking the tip of his tongue across the head he pushed his finger forward, pressed hard enough against Dean's tight hole that the tip of his finger finally was engulfed by the heat of his boyfriend's body. Tongue darting out and lapping at the head of Dean's cock Sam raised his eyes again to watching his lover's face.

"Shit," Dean gasped in shock at the burn and intrusion of Sam's finger. It was coupled with the sweep of his tongue over his cock and Dean felt torn between the pleasure and pain. Focusing in on the pleasure, Dean found it easier when his hips shifted, pulling Sam's finger in slightly and easing the burn. It only took a few moments for it to stop stinging and changing to a slightly uncomfortable full pressure. But not bad. And Dean was too intent on the idea of Sam being buried in him to stop now. "More," he insisted quietly and pushed up on his elbows to stare down at his boyfriend.

Licking his lips, Sam crouched down lower and ran his tongue over Dean's balls a few times before opening his mouth wide and sucking one completely inside his mouth. Moaning, his own dick aching and feeling a bit like it would explode he pushed his finger further inside Dean - feeling his lover's muscle relax slightly. Sucking hard, tonguing the soft skin in his mouth - Sam pressed another finger forward and slid it gently inside his lover's heat. It was completely different than anything he'd imagined. The musky scent of Dean's body was rich and thick in Sam's nose.

Dean felt overloaded, mind spinning out of control as Sam stretched him open and worked his skin between his lips. Each breath he pulled in was shaky and unsure, filling his chest and just as quickly emptying. He was a writhing, moaning mess, squirming down into Sam's fingers as the fullness eased off to something that was definitely enjoyable. " _Fuck_ ," he groaned as Sam's tongue moved along his skin, fingers stretching him further apart. "More," he pleaded, hands shifting restlessly along the sheets.

Lapping and sucking his way up Dean's cock, Sam twisted his wrist slightly so he could slip a third finger deep inside Dean. He pushed hard, faster this time - and sank his mouth down over Dean's cock as he did. Sucking hard, he rode the lift of his boyfriend's hips and twisted his fingers slowly. Spreading his fingers apart his worked his lover open, slick with lube, heat rising in his own body with every movement.

" _Oh_ ," Dean gasped when Sam's fingers unexpectedly brushed against the spot in him that caused sparks to shoot in front of his vision for a moment. His muscles clenched around Sam's fingers and his body practically bowed up into his mouth, heels digging hard into bed. "Y-you," he managed to growl, dropping hard onto the mattress and moaning loudly when Sam's fingers twisted within him. There was no lingering pain any longer and Dean was relieved to know this was _better_ than he imagined.

"Dean?" Sam was panting, flushed, his hips rolling slightly. "Can I?" Moaning softly he sucked at the head of Dean's cock, tongue circling the sensitive skin.

Nodding quickly Dean looked up, blinking lust from his eyes to stare at Sam. "Y-yeah. Yeah. _God_." He fell hard back on the bed when Sam pulled his fingers free, pleasure shaking down his spine. "Want you in me," he managed to gasp, pulling his legs up in anticipation.

Blinking a few times, Sam swallowed then finally convinced his hand to reach out and find the lube. Squirting more of the slick liquid onto his hand he stroked it over his own cock, moaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut for a few moments. Wiping his hand on the sheet he dragged his hands up the back side of Dean's thighs and smiled down at him. There were so many emotions flooding through Sam's body and mind - he was shaking.

Grabbing the base of his dick Sam lined up and pushed gently. His hands drifted back to Dean's thighs, fingers digging into his muscles. Biting down so hard on his bottom lip that he tasted blood, Sam held still for a moment then pushed forward again. The head of his cock jolted and suddenly it was past the tight ring of muscle and surrounded by a heat he'd never experienced before in his life.

Dean found himself holding his breath, eyes squeezing shut as he willed his body to adjust to the way Sam seemingly split him apart. His fingers curled up around Sam's shoulders, holding on as Sam slid further inside him, deeper, filling him in a way he hadn't known was possible. "Jesus," he gasped and pushed down, pulling Sam in. Dean's muscles clenched tightly, tensing his shoulders, and he had to force himself to inhale to get his body to relax. Dean could feel Sam's weight pressing him down into the bed and it kept the thrill rolling up in him. "Just. Do it." Dean hissed and rolled back into his boyfriend's cock.

Prying his fingers off Dean's thigh, Sam reached forward and brushed his thumb over Dean's softening cock. His boyfriend's words ricocheted through his mind and Sam's hips rolled forward. Dean's body resisted for just a moment then Sam slid deep inside his lover. It was almost unbearably tight; Sam had to struggle to stay still when all he wanted to do was draw back so he could slam forward again. His body was pressed flush against Dean's ass and his brain just stopped working. Lost completely in the sensation Sam let his head fall back as his fingers curled unconsciously around Dean's cock. "Holy _fuck_ ," he murmured.

It took several long minutes and deep, lingering breaths in order for Dean to get his body to calm enough to handle the intrusion. It faded gradually from burning stretch, to that uncomfortable full, to something _more_. Dean was acutely aware of the connection they now shared and once he was certain it no longer hurt, his hips moved tentatively, rocking up into Sam's hips. He pried his eyes open to stare up at his boyfriend, muscles clenching around Sam's cock tightly. "S'okay Sam, you can move," he whispered, head rolling along the pillow slowly as Sam's hips twitched deeper inside him.

Sam whimpered at the sound of Dean's voice. Dean's face was gorgeous - his cheeks were flushed dark red, his lips swollen from a night of too much kissing, his eyes were dark and wide and full of _want_ and Sam's heart tumbled over itself trying to beat faster. "Dean," he whispered, fingers sliding long and slow up his boyfriend's shaft. He pulled back, dick sliding free of Dean's heat for a few moments before he snapped his hips forward and sank himself deep again. "Fuck, Dean..."

Sam couldn't stay still any longer - the ache in his cock and the heat spinning through his body was just too much. Slow at first, eyes bleary and hardly able to focus he thrust forward slowly, hips rolling back and forth in a slow motion. The sweet noises that Dean was making made Sam ache even more, sending shivers running up and down his spine. He loved the way his boyfriend's body was bowed up, spine twisting and arching to get more, the best contact.

"Fuck, _Sam_ ," Dean keened his lover's name, arching almost completely off the bed into the thrust of Sam's hips. He clenched around Sam's cock, pulling him in deep with each thrust and sucking in quick lungfuls. "God. Harder." He groaned and hooked his leg around Sam's upper thigh, attempting to hold him as close as possible. He'd never felt something so pulse-racing, couldn't even prepare for the way his heart skipped beats.

Hands snapping forward, Dean clung to Sam's forearms and groaning, loudly and bending his body up in an almost unnatural way. Sam's thrusts increased speed when Dean practically forced him, flexing his muscles along his leg and pulling with his arms. Dean kept his eyes pried open just to watch the pleasure paint across Sam's face each time he clenched around him. "S'good," he gasped and slid his teeth over his lower lip.

Sam felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest. Everything ached and buzzed and heat flooded through his limbs like they were dipped in fire. It was everything he'd imagine and so much more. Fingers splayed on the backs of Dean's thighs Sam thrust hard forward; his abs clenched he snapped his hips forward sending his cock pounding into Dean's heat time and time again. Every part of Sam wanted to try and make this last forever, being this close to Dean - joined - connected. Better than anything else, _closer_ , but he could already feel his orgasm building like pressure deep inside him.

Something electric was crawling down Dean's spine, resonating up his veins and sparking through his senses. It was almost too much to handle. Dean couldn't suck in quick enough breaths, couldn't get his lips to form any words, just moans and keens and sharp gasps. His hands slid along every inch of his lover that he could reach, curling fingers into the back of his neck and pulling him down roughly on top of his chest to crush their lips together. Dean thrust his tongue forward into Sam's mouth the moment their lips met, sweeping across every inch of Sam's mouth he could reach. He was going to lose it within minutes; he could feel it already, orgasm spiralling quickly out of his control.

Moaning loudly, Sam slid his hand between them and stroked Dean's cock slowly. It was awkward and Sam didn't give a shit- he just wanted Dean to feel as good as possible. Angling his hips slightly with each thrust Sam tried to find that place again deep inside his lover that would make him come apart. As soon as he hit it - he felt Dean's muscles clamp down around him, gasped and cried out. His orgasm shot through him like wildfire, every muscle in Sam's body clenched tight then released and with a final thrust he could feel his cock pulsing long and hard.

There were half a dozen thrusts in quick succession where Sam drove into his prostate and that combined with the quick stroke of Sam's hand on his dick sent him spiraling into his release. " _Sam_ ," he gasped, moaned louder and fell into his orgasm. His muscles tensed with each wave until Dean melted back into the mattress, eyes falling shut only because it felt like too much effort to keep them open. "Damn." He murmured some time later, still panting heavily to regain control of his breathing.

Groaning, Sam collapsed against Dean's body - shifting his hips slightly so his softening dick slid free. Mumbling something completely incoherent he circled his arms around Dean's waist and let the man take his weight. He kissed Dean's stomach and sucked in the scent of _them_ , together. "I - _Jesus_ , Dean..." giving up on speech Sam sucked softly on a patch of skin just above his boyfriend's collar bone.

A weird wave of emotion shot through him and Dean moved forward, trying to press as close to Sam as possible. He clung to him, holding on as tight as he could. This had been something other worldly; it meant more than any of the other times he'd shared with girls in the past. _Sam_ meant more and that was almost scary. "I know," he mumbled, wanting to tell Sam how much he wanted him to stay, wanted to go with him, keeping his mouth shut only because he didn't want to ruin the moment.

Launching his body into motion, Sam crawled over Dean's leg and slid up to lie beside him; he settled into the crook of Dean's shoulder, an arm and let thrown over Dean's body. He didn't care if they were sticky with come and sweat - he wasn't letting go of Dean any time soon. Fingers curling and uncurling on Dean's chest he tilted his chin up to whisper, "are you okay?"

Nodding quickly, Dean briefly smiled and exhaled sharply. "Yeah. God. That was amazing. Seriously. It was just..." Dean couldn't even think of words to describe what it was that Sam made him feel. Just that it was the best thing he'd ever experienced and no matter what happened, he would always remember it. "Was I? I mean, I was, it was good? Really good? Yeah?"

A deep laugh rumbled in Sam's chest and he slid his hand up to cup Dean's cheek. "Perfect," he mumbled and tilted his chin up to kiss the side of Dean's jaw. _Too perfect to leave._ Closing his eyes against the cold flood of apprehension Sam nuzzled into Dean's neck. "Was better than anything..." he didn't bother trying to explain what he _had_ done before, it was pointless. Now was what mattered. He had Dean right now.

"Yeah, was," Dean nodded in agreement and swallowed around the rising emotion. He settled into Sam's side as much as he could, inhaling his scent greedily. "I hope we have time to do that again before you go," he whispered, fingers tightening over Sam's arm.

Sam's brow furrowed slightly, an unfamiliar tightness pressing in on his throat. "God, I've never wished before that I didn't have to leave somewhere." It was strange even saying it- he lived on the road, he knew all the rules - they were safer if they kept moving - there were people out there who needed their help, people _just_ like Dean. The problem was; no one was _just_ like Dean. "You should get a cell phone so I can get in touch with you."

"Yeah, I have a part time job so I think I can do that." Dean knew his dad was against the idea of him having a cell phone but there were prepaid plans out there that he could use and keep the device secret. "I'm never going to forget you," he whispered into Sam's shoulder, already knowing the words were truer than anything he'd ever said. This night, every single moment with Sam, was going to forever be burned in his mind.

"You say that," Sam shifted so he could gaze up at Dean, "like you're never gonna see me again." A shiver passed down his body and he pushed up onto his elbow so he could get a good look at Dean's expression. "You're gonna. Right? I mean, if I come back - you'll see me?" He suddenly felt every bit of his age. Insecure, wondering if he'd done something wrong or stupid even while he could see on Dean's face it was nothing like that.

"If you come back, when you come back, yeah. Yeah I'll see you. I was... I mean, I was kind of hoping you'd still be my boyfriend? Would that be weird? I know it would be really long distance but," Dean shrugged and smiled softly, staring off to the side. "I don't really think anyone will ever top you. Uh, in a figurative and literal way. So. Yeah," Dean laughed at himself and met Sam's eyes questioningly.

Smiling Sam reached up and dragged his palm over Dean's stubbled cheek. "Yeah, I mean - I don't want anyone else." It was so strange, to know that and Sam knew that his Dad would probably argue with him but still, there were some things that Sam just _knew_. "I'll come back, I promise. You promise you'll be here?" He grinned; thumb moving over Dean's full bottom lip once then trailing off down his chin.

"If I'm not here, I'll tell you where I am. That's a promise." Dean laughed softly, amused how easy it was to make quick promises with each other. He believed them though, so that was what mattered. They fell into silence for a few minutes and Dean lost himself listening to Sam's heartbeat. "Talk to me," he finally requested, eyes closed but mind oddly awake. "Tell me anything, just wanna listen to you." Honestly, he just wanted to continue to feel that connection with him. It seemed too important to let go.

"I miss my Mom." Sam had no idea why it was the first thing that popped into his head and subsequently out his mouth. Maybe it was just the conversations he'd been _trying_ to have with his father. So far - he'd had no success. "When the Demon was talking to me, us, me and my Dad - it said some things that didn't make sense to me." Sam's brows drew together as he thought about it.

"I never really knew what happened to her, I was so little - and I guess I just didn't ask. She was dead and I knew what that meant so," Sam shrugged and reached behind him for a discarded t-shirt. After making sure it was _his_ t-shirt he wiped at Dean's stomach, cleaning up his release a thoughtful expression still on his face.

"The Demon said that my mom - well, that she'd killed herself." Saying it out-loud, using those words made it all seem a little too real. Tossing the t-shirt behind him onto the floor Sam settled himself across Dean's chest and blinked up at him.

Staring down at Sam in shock, Dean blinked a few times, not sure what to say in response to the confession. "And... is it true? Did you ask your dad about it?" He thought about Sam hearing that information, coming from his mouth, and shook his head. "I said that. Or well, my body did. How can you even stand being with me after something like that? I'm sure it wasn't pleasant. I can still feel that thing sometimes." Dean pursed his lips, reaching out to tuck Sam's hair behind his ear.

The expression on Sam's face softened instantly. "It wasn't you - it was the Demon. I know that." He leaned slightly into Dean's hand and dropped his gaze. "I tried to talk to my Dad, he just says _now's not the time_ and things like that. But that's kind of an answer don't you think?" Worrying his bottom lip with his teeth Sam blinked up at Dean. "Do you think that means she did?" It was a pretty loaded question; Sam wasn't just asking if his Dad was lying, he was asking if his Mom was in Hell - by her own hand.

Dean didn't even have to know the whole story to get some of the unspoken intensity of this question. "I. God Sam, I'm not sure. I, do you want me to answer that? Honestly?" He stared uncertainty at Sam, pressing his lips together.

Nodding silently Sam took a deep breath.

Wetting his lips slowly Dean looked across the room, blinking something wet from his eyes. "I think your dad would have denied it if it wasn't true. Why wouldn't he?" Dean could see the crestfallen look on Sam's face and he wish he could have given him a different answer. But he wanted to be honest.

Smiling briefly, Sam then frowned and dropped down to rest his cheek against Dean's chest. Tears welled up in his eyes and he tried to focus on Dean's heart beat, slow and steady below his ear. "So, he kept it from me all these years... and she-" Sam’s throat clamped down on his words and a tear slid down his cheek. He knew exactly where his Mom was if she had taken her own life - trapped in a place with all those Demons and creatures that Sam and his Dad hunted.

As far as his religion went, Dean knew exactly what it meant, Sam's mother committing suicide. He pulled Sam hard against his body holding him close and pressing a hard kiss to the top of his hair. "And he won't talk to you about it at all? Maybe he just needs some time?" Dean couldn't imagine carrying that type of weight on his shoulders, a secret like that from Sam for so long. "How old where you again? I know you told me but, rough night and all." Wetting his lips once more, Dean stroked a hand soothingly through Sam's hair.

"It doesn't matter," Sam wiped at his face with the back of his hand. "I don't remember her - she took herself away from me. And he won't tell me anything. Guess that makes you the only person I know who's never let me down." Letting out a growl Sam nuzzled down against Dean's chest. "That's life right? Bad things happen and ya move on. Just deal with it." Sam pushed down the anger and mistrust and all the other negative feelings that were fighting to gain control of him.

Pushing up until he was sitting against the headboard, Dean pulled Sam into his arms and held him close, kissing his temple hard. "It is life, yeah, but there's more to it. Life I mean. It's something great. And I know there are all these shitty moments but the good ones? That's what makes life worth it." Dean wanted to help, wanted to calm the ache in Sam's heart that was so clear by his tone of voice. It was like a drive pressing hard into him. "I know how it hurts, losing your mom. No one can ever replace that." He sighed softly and nearly cradled Sam against his body, despite the boy being bigger.

"I know, really," Sam shifted in Dean's arms. "I don't care anymore. My Dad - well- it’s not easy being raised a hunter but this doesn't surprise me. We ... he and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things." It was a complete and utter lie but Sam didn't want to bring everything down. "What about you, your turn, obviously I don't have anything good..." Blushing Sam tilted his head up so he could see Dean's face. "'Cept you."

"And I've got you. So, that's about it." Dean smiled and shrugged. It was odd, the place he lived in. Some kids his age might have rebelled pushed against it, run away. But Dean wasn't like that. Even as a child he'd been repentant after angering his father. Dean thought it might be his craving for the constant stability. He could only distantly remember the departure of his mother and how that had changed things. It had terrified him and he never wanted to be back in that place. "I don't really have anything good either. Maybe that's why we've connected so much. Two boys with crappy lives finding a common bond over possession. Man, what a _how we met_ story." Dean smiled slightly, shaking his head as he laughed softly.

Taking a few deep breaths Sam smiled, "I'm gonna come back. Dad lets me keep a lot of the money I get when I hustle pool." Sam stiffened slightly realizing it was yet another thing that Dean didn't know about the _Hunting_ way of life.

Eyebrows lifting Dean pulled back enough to meet Sam's eyes and he slowly smirked. "You hustle pool? Seriously?" Dean hadn't thought about it before but now that he did, it was a mystery as to how the Winchester's got paid. It wasn't like his dad had offered him money or anything, and it seemed unlikely anyone else would. "So that's how you guys get by? Hustling pool?" He asked, just curious.

Wincing, Sam looked away and felt shame colouring his cheeks yet again. "I'm only good at that, Dad does some weird stuff with credit cards - applies or a bunch of them and uses them for emergencies and stuff. I've been playing pool for years, used to play to kill time while Dad was talking to people about hunts and stuff." Leaning back a little Sam pressed his lips together for a few moments. "A real job would be cool," he said shyly, "if I had more school I'd want to be a vet - but that's expensive and years of school. Maybe one day I could work at one of those shelters where they keep abandoned animals or something." _Yeah_ , maybe one day.

Smiling slightly, Dean nodded. That was a nice thought, Sam settling down. Maybe Dean could join him. Shaking his head to rid himself of those lingering thoughts Dean looked at Sam and smiled once more. "That would be cool. Maybe you could own one. Getting a business degree is easier; you could do it through a community college, maybe even online. What about school? Do you have your GED?"

A little taken aback by Dean's enthusiasm about school, Sam laughed softly. "Nah, I just quit - Dad said I could when I turned sixteen. Doesn't really matter for what we're doing. I just kill things and clean up messes. Don't need much of an education to do that. When I need to know things I get online or I got to the Library." Smiling up at his boyfriend Sam reached up and smoothed Dean's hair back. "Sounds like _you_ like school."

"I like the idea of being something more and getting out from under my father's thumb." Dean shrugged. He didn't really want to think about school. He'd be going back soon and there was likely loads he missed while possessed and now, while his father was insisting on a short break to clear his mind. "I got accepted to a state university but... I can't go. Not right away." Dean thought back to his unpleasant conversation with his dad about school and frowned. "Money issues."

"Is it really expensive? I have like five or six hundred dollars you could have - if that would help." Sam had never bothered to look into college because he knew it wasn't what lay ahead for him.

Smiling brighter at Sam's willingness to spare his own money for him, Dean shook his head. "No, it's not that. I had a college fund but, my dad, well, he has control of it until I'm older and he doesn't want me to go. It's too late to apply for financial aid. He says I have to go to some religious camp this summer, straighten me out." Dean shrugged, trying to belittle the weight of the notion. A full summer at a religious camp, Dean couldn't even imagine what it would be like.

"Straighten you out? What's wrong with you?" Sam didn't mean it as a joke - he genuinely couldn't imagine Dean's father not being proud of him. "Are you gonna go?" There was a desperate tone in Sam's voice that even he noticed. If Dean was sent away to a camp it would be impossible for Sam to find him, let alone visit him.

"I'm not sure I have a choice. I could run away or something but I have literally _nothing_. I only get to keep a little money from my pay checks; dad takes the rest for rent and bills, food, things like that." Frowning, Dean lost himself for a moment in the hopelessness of the situation before looking up at Sam. "What else can I do? I'm not like you; I don't have any street smarts. I'd probably end up getting killed out there."

Sam's eyes widened and he turned in Dean's embrace so he was facing him dead on. "Come with me." It was the easiest thing in the world to say. Sam didn't care that he'd suffer probably a month of filthy looks from his Dad and lectures about having to teach Dean to take care of himself, paying his way. It would all be worth it.

"What? Like now? When you go?" Dean's eyes widened to match Sam's and he stared, trying to decide if that was something he could even _do_. "And we'd hunt? You'd teach me how?" Dean's mind was spinning now, considering the possibility of going with Sam, being with him all the time. "What would your dad say? Would he allow it?"

Shrugging Sam scrambled up and practically crawled onto Dean. "Aww, he'll be my Dad - he'll be polite to you about it - understanding, say you can come with us. Then he'll make me pay by bitching and complaining at me. You'd have to earn your keep somehow -but you're smart I could teach you. And - if you wanted I could teach you hunting ... stuff." Sam shrugged again, eyes brightening more with each word. "I think it'd be better if you didn't hunt. I mean, at first maybe but then we could go off on our own and you could go to school somehow and be a ... be a... What did you want to do at school?"

Laughing at Sam's excitement Dean shrugged. "No idea. I kept chasing ideas around. Nothing really solid comes to mind but I'm sure I could figure it out." Dean felt a little crazy for actually considering Sam's offer, he'd never done something so spur of the moment, but now his mind was reeling with possibilities. "I... God. Yeah. That would be so much. A whole different life. I can't even imagine." He shook his head but the smile lingered there.

Sam nudged his fist against Dean's shoulder. "Come on. Say yes. You and I - we could be real boyfriends, you know get to know each other even better. We could share a motel room; I won't make you pay for anything until you can. Or...or if you don't want to," Sam blushed and dropped his eyes, "I can get you your own room. I can make enough hustling to make sure you're okay." Leaning down Sam pressed his lips to Dean's softly. "Come with me. What's to stay here for?"

In truth, there was nothing. Dean wasn't close enough to his friends to miss them; his only real attachment was now sitting here with him and asking him to come along on some crazy whirlwind of a life that Dean had never dreamed would be his own. "Yeah, okay," he nodded slowly, allowing the idea of saying yes to settle in his mind. "But I want to share rooms. Alright? And I want to do all I can to pull my weight, pay for things. I'm sure you'd like a little kept boy and all but..." Dean grinned and tugged Sam forward, kissing him because it felt like the best thing to do after such a monumental decision.

As soon as their lips parted Sam sat back on Dean's thighs and stared at him. "Yeah?" His heart did some strange jumping thing in his chest and started to race a little like all the times his Dad told him he'd had too much coffee.

Nodding again Dean smiled brightly. "Yeah. Really yeah. Man." Dean thought about trying to live out of a duffel bag, what he could back and bring, what would be best to leave behind. Besides his entire life. "I guess I have some work to do. You gonna run things past your dad first then? What if he completely freaks and says no? Can you explain why?"

"He won't say no. Dad never says no to me when I really want something." Sam grinned and pushed his hair back off his forehead, "but I'll talk to him up front if it will make you feel better." Snatching Dean up into his arms, Sam laughed and pressed kisses all over Dean's face. "Okay, if you ever tell anyone I got this excited about _anything_ I'll beat yer ass."

Laughing louder Dean squirmed in Sam's arm, rolling them on the mattress and struggling for control. Sam was much stronger so it was easy for the man to pin him down. Dean grinned up at him and rolled his hips up. "Yeah, yeah, you're secret is safe with me. I promise." Dean grinned and ran his hands along Sam's arms. "God, it's gonna be amazing isn't it?"

"It already is." Sam pulled Dean's arms high up above his head and dove down to bury his face in his boyfriend's neck. "Now, where were we..."

-=-=-=-

"I said _no_ , Sam." John paced over to the chair at the small motel room table and sank down into it looking quite weary.

"Dad, he's got no reason to stay here," Sam stormed across the room and threw his arms up in frustration. "You said yourself that his father doesn’t understand what happened to Dean...that he was possessed. The things he's said to Dean- Dad - we can't just leave him here I think that guy might do something crazy."

Sighing, John picked up his coffee cup off the table. It was his third attempt to try and drink it. "Listen, Sam - we can't just take off with someone's son. I _do_ think Abraham has some issues but I don't think he'll _hurt_ Dean. He's a religious zealot not a serial killer."

"Jesus Christ, Dad!" Sam sat down in the chair opposite John and leaned on the table. "You should hear the way Dean talks. His Dad is just wearing him down, making him think that it really is his fault that he was possessed. You _know_ that's not okay. And...and we're not _taking_ him, he wants to come and he's eighteen already and he can take care of himself and make his own decision, I know it because-"

The coffee cup slammed down on the table so hard the handle cracked off and coffee splashed up and landed on the table rather dramatically. "Fuck Sam. You think I don't know what's going on here? I'm not completely stupid, or blind for that matter. I know that you and he are - whatever the hell people call it these days. But you're sixteen years old Sam. What the _hell_ do you know about relationships and living with someone twenty-four seven. You fight with me! You fight every decision I make and you want to bring along someone else? This is ridiculous. I should haul your ass out of here and get as many miles between us and this town as I can."

Both Winchesters were silent for a few long moments. The tension was thick between them - almost tangible.

Sam's heart started to sink. "Dad, please. Dad..." he drew in a shaky breath then cleared his throat. "Dad, I don't ask you for a lot. I accept that this is the way we have to live - but you taught me that we _save_ people. We don't leave people in situations that are bad for them - that hurt them. Dean is being hurt by this - his father thinks he's a monster." Sam could feel the telltale blush creeping up his neck toward his cheeks. "And yeah, it's more than that - it's about me and him. We don't abandon people we care about. I'm sixteen but you _know_ I'm older than that inside, experienced so much stuff. Shit Dad, I've seen more in the past few months than most people see in a lifetime. That's gotta buy me the right to make some decisions."

John shook his head slowly and lowered his eyes to the mess on the table. "Sam, this is big. This isn't like deciding to leave school or wanting to go on a hunt alone or something."

"I know," Sam shrugged a shoulder and crossed his arms as if he could insulate himself somehow from his dad's words.

John lifted his gaze, studying Sam's face for a few moments. "I don't know that you _do_ understand yet, Sam. This is someone's life that you're talkin' about changing. And what if you bring him along and something goes wrong between you two? What if you don't want to see each other anymore?"

Sam's head snapped up and he wriggled uncomfortably in his chair.

"It's not like that we-"

"Don't you lie to me boy. Like I said - I'm not stupid- I know that moony expression on your face and I know it probably feels like it will be forever but-"

"When did you know you loved Mom?" Sam cocked his head to the side and leaned forward on his seat. His father had told him the story a hundred times.

"That's completely different." John huffed and sank back in his chair.

"You knew that you loved Mom- knew you wanted to marry her the very day you met her. Why is this different? I'm not even saying that Dean is forever but Dad, I know some things." Sam combed his hand through his hair and then rubbed at the back of his neck. "I know that the _only_ time I've slept without a nightmare for months was when I fell asleep with his arm around me. When.. when I feel something - anything - I want to tell him about it - share it - because it feels better. " Sam leaned closer to his father and lowered his voice. "I'm not naive Dad. I know that there's a big chance that this may not work out - but there's a bigger chance that it might be something really great. And... if I drive away with you - we'll never come back. It will all be over and I'll never know." Sam reached and squeezed his Dad's arm. "I want to _know_ , Dad."

John sat there blinking as he looked down at Sam's fingers curled around his wrist. Reaching his free hand up he rubbed it down his face. The sound of his almost-beard rasping against his rough palm was the only sound in the room. "Sam, this is a big one."

"I know." Sam nodded, squeezed his Dad's wrist again and sat back. His heart was thundering in his chest because he had no idea what he was going to say if his Dad actually said no to him. It hadn't occurred to him that that might happen until it was entirely too late.

"He's gotta learn how to take care of himself. We can't be trying to cover him every moment." John's voice was gruff.

"Yes Sir." Sam sat up straighter, hope sparking in his chest for the first time since the conversation had started.

John drummed his fingers on the table for a few moments. "And, if things go south between you two - it _cannot_ affect our work, you hear me?"

Nodding, Sam allowed himself a slight smile and finally loosened his grip on the arms of his chair. "Yes, Sir, I'll make sure it doesn't."

"You're _still_ my son, Sam. And, like it or not you're still sixteen years old - so don't you be getting any big ideas about leaving because I'm gonna have you with me till _I_ think you're old enough to be off on your own."

"Yes Sir." Sam grinned.

"Fine. Now leave me be so I can finish what's left of my coffee."

Sam was up and out of his chair so fast he knocked it over backwards. Spinning he picked it up and grabbed his jacket off the bed. "Thanks, Dad you won't regret-"

"Sam shut up and git before I change my mind." John slid his broken cup closer to him and inspected the contents. "Must be fuckin' crazy," he murmured.

Impulsively, Sam leaned down and pulled his dad into a quick hug then stepped back and grinned even brighter. Snatching the car keys off the table he headed out the door and slammed it behind him. It was a five minute drive to Dean's but it felt a hell of a lot longer. By the time Sam pulled up in front of their house he was vibrating with excitement. Bounding up the front path he banged on the door. It was after noon so Dean's dad should be at work. He banged again and yelled "Dean! open up."

Dean had slept in because, honestly, Sam and he hadn't really done much sleeping the night before. So truthfully he'd just gone back to bed when Sam dropped him off at home earlier. That was why he answered the door in his boxers and a thin t-shirt, rubbing at his eyes against the bright light hitting him. "Hey, didn't think you'd be here so soon." He half smiled and pulled the door open further.

"Did you go back to _sleep_?" Sam pushed into the house and kicked the door shut behind him and pushed Dean back against the wall. He smelled like sleep and Sam could feel the heat coming off his boyfriend's body in waves. "Ohh you're sexy when you've just woken up." He couldn't help sliding his hands up under Dean's t-shirt, hell, it wasn't leaving much to the imagination to begin with and Sam was in a particularly good mood.

Moaning softly, Dean pushed up into Sam's hands and smiled sleepily. "I, yeah. Went back to sleep. How'd it go?" Dean could already feel heat burning through him, just the sight and brief touch and it was like he was melting. "God. Your hands." He wet his lips and shifted forward, reaching out to cup Sam's hips.

Sam dragged his teeth down the shell of Dean' ear. "Dad said..." he sucked on his boyfriend's ear lobe gently and then whispered "yes." Growling softly, Sam nuzzled into Dean's neck, drawing in his sleep scent. "We leave tomorrow." It felt like Sam's insides were all trying to get out - everything in him sort of flopping upside down. It was a bit like being on a roller coaster ride.

Grinning brighter than he could ever remember grinning, Dean tugged Sam's hand and pulled him down the hall, kicking the door to his room shut behind them. "Fuck yes," he laughed and kicked at the clothes spread out across his floor. "Let's fucking celebrate." Dean pulled him in and crushed their lips together. A few minutes later he pulled back enough to whisper, "I can still feel you in me." It was going to be a _great_ day.


	5. Chapter 5

There was something pleasant in Dean's dream and he was fairly certain it was Sam though he couldn't really _see_ him. Just the touch, the feel of lips, warmth and something so comfortable Dean wanted to get lost in it for as long as possible. His dreams shifted to the day before, Sam taking him on this bed; maybe he could still smell them on the sheets. An afternoon in sunshine, laughing and touching, enjoying each other and thinking of the future they were going to have. Even in his sleep, Dean smiled, imagining his lips moving against Sam's in their goodnight kiss.

Something loud crashed through his room and instantly pulled him from the pleasant dreams, causing him to sit up swiftly. He blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes, looking down at the duffel bag by his closet before someone cleared his throat and his gaze shifted to the door. Dean didn't expect to see his dad there, nor did he expect the harsh line of his jaw or the color of red flushing his skin. If he stared hard enough he was pretty sure he could see the man's nostrils flare.

It sent off warning signals in his mind and Dean was instantly aware of his lack of shirt, of the purplish bruises Sam had left on his skin, of his lips that still felt kiss swollen. "D-dad?" He stuttered in surprise, pulling his sheet up over his body, pressing it to his chin. "What's going on?"

"Filth," Abraham spat and his fingers curled into fists. Dean spotted a Bible in his left hand and his heart sank. "You. Filthy. Filthy _child_." The man was past the point of anger, as if he'd been sitting on this thought for hours, turning different reactions over and over in his mind, brewing on whatever it was that had sparked this.

Dean's stomach churned and he wished desperately that he was wearing more, that he was more coherent, that he hadn't just been dreaming about his boyfriend in ways that felt so suddenly _wrong_ that it seemed painted on his skin. Like his Dad could see it all and was judging him on that. "Dad? I don't... I don't understand. What's going on? What?" He pushed along the mattress, searching the ground for his clothing.

"Do not lie with a man as one lies with a woman; that is detestable." Abraham quoted the scripture flawlessly, not needing the Bible in his hand though he held it up as if to remind Dean. As if he even needed to know where it was from. Dean didn't. It was Leviticus 18:22, Dean had known that for years.

And it told him what he needed to know, why this was suddenly happening now. _Fuck_. Somehow they'd slipped up, they'd been seen. "Fuck." Dean gasped in shock, pressing the sheet harder into his chest. His chest shook with the speed of his breaths, inhaling and exhaling sharply. "Dad. Dad. No. This... it's not. It's not what-"

"I _saw_ you, and don't you _dare_ lie to me boy." Abraham stepped forward and curled his fingers around Dean's arm, tugging him off the mattress hard enough to pull him from the bed and drop him hard on the floor.

It stung, and was made even worse because Dean could still _feel_ Sam. That sense that his father could read his mind, see his thoughts, intensified and Dean felt so sick and _dirty_ he thought he might be sick. "What? What did you see?"

Abraham nearly hissed, shaking his head so violently it looked painful. "I can't even speak about that _disgust_. You. My own flesh and _blood_. I didn't raise you to be a _fag_."

There were arguments, Dean knew them, that it wasn't about being raised in a particular way, wasn't about decisions made or choices already past. It was just who Dean _was_ and Sam. Sam brought out that _part_ of him that felt warm and full and loved. He couldn't remember ever feeling that way. "It's not like... no Dad. It doesn't work like that. It's... it's more. _Sam_ is more. I. I love him." He whispered, nearly pleading, and turned on the floor so he wasn't sprawled out on his ass on the floor in just his boxers. His fingers pulled at the nearest shirt and tugged it on.

"If a man lies with a man as one lies with a woman, both of them have done what is detestable. They must be put to death; their blood will be on their own heads." Abraham quoted once more, swift and clipped words.

What terrified him, what made his blood chill and his heart stutter painfully, was the look in his father's eyes. He believed what he was saying, quoting these ancient scriptures that didn't sync up with his religion at all. Dean pushed to his feet, tugging his shirt down and sucking in a sharp breath. "That's not _right_. Sure you've got the words and that's fucking _great_ but all that. It was before Jesus and forgiveness and isn't the point of your religion in the first place is to love and accept? He who has no sin cast the first fucking stone _Dad_." Dean's face heated with anger, fists clenching. His eyes darted to the duffel bag and he wondered if he was strong enough to knock his dad out of the way and get out of there. Get to Sam. Get the fuck _away_.

Judging from the way Abraham's eyes narrowed at his outburst, Dean wasn't sure he'd be able to make a clear get away. Fear slammed hard and fast into his chest but Dean reasoned the man couldn't keep him locked away forever. Eventually he'd have to go somewhere, and Dean would get the hell out of there.

"Don't you even _dare_ to talk to me about my religion. You're nothing. You're a disgusting, perverted, sinner. And I won't tolerate it. You think you're going to go off with that little fag and his wicked father? You honestly think I'd let you do that?" Abraham growled and stepped back, crossing the room and stepping into the hallway.

For a moment Dean thought the man might return with a gun or something. He had a brief flash in his mind of his father killing him in some flash of anger, and he thought of Sam. What would the boy do? Would he be alright? Would anyone ever tell him what had really happened? _God_ this couldn't be happening. Dean's vision blurred and he thought he might simply pass out. At least maybe then his death would be painless. Hopefully.

When Abraham did return it wasn't with any weapon of any sort. Instead he was followed by two big, muscular men that crowded the confined space of Dean's bedroom. He opened his mouth, as if to ask if these men were going to kill him for Abraham, but his father cut him off with a sharp slap across the side of his face. Dean was so stunned by the action he simply stared down at the ground, not moving from the way his head had snapped to the side at the slap.

"You're coming with us boy." One of the burly men growled and stepped forward. His hand was big enough to wrap around Dean's wrist and leave room to spare. He tugged Dean easily forward as if he weighed nothing at all.

"Dad," Dean gasped in surprise, looking pleadingly at his father. "Please. Please don't do this. I. Please. I'll just go. I'll go and never come back. You can keep my money, everything. Please." In a last ditch effort Dean stopped holding himself up, let his knees give in and fold down. He collapsed down onto the hard floor, a dead weight.

Abraham stepped forward and grasped Dean's short locks, jerking his head up. "When I get to Heaven, I'll be held accountable for you. I'm not going to let you tarnish our family. You're going and they will fix you. They will get that evil from you. Then I never want to see you again, you'll spend the rest of your life making up for your sins."

A harsh sob tore through Dean and he tried to fold in on himself, nearly screaming when his dad's fingers tugged hard enough on his hair to lift his knees from the floor. " _Please._ God, I. I'm not those things. I can be good. I can be better. Just _please_ don't. Sam. Sam will never know. Please tell him. Tell him I lov-"

"Shut _up_ ," Abraham snarled and back handed Dean hard enough to send him crashing hard back into floor.

Dean could taste blood across his tongue and his head throbbed. He was shocked, stunned, too much for him to even properly process. He only felt the yank on his arms as the two men lifted him from the ground and dragged him from the room. Mumbled pleas fell stuttered from his lips and Dean attempted to break free, a useless attempt.

When they crossed the threshold outside hope flickered in Dean. Maybe Sam would be out there, maybe he'd come in time to stop them, to save him once more. But it was barely past sunrise and the street was empty. Dean opened his mouth to scream but a large hand clamped over his mouth and kept it in.

The hopelessness didn't really settle in him until he was thrown in the back of a van and the door was slammed shut. There were no windows but Dean could feel the car moving. And he cried now not for himself, but for Sam. This would ruin everything. Even if he magically managed to escape the torture that was sure to follow, Sam would think he simply disappeared, as if he had no interest in being with Sam at all. The only good thing in his life and Dean knew it was gone. By the time he was released Sam would be long gone. And, since they'd decided he would go with, Dean didn't even have his number.

" _Fuck_ ," Dean gasped in pain, not physical, a hollow, empty thrumming in his chest. He curled in on himself and bumped along the cool metal of the van.

-=-=-=-

Sam was leaning against the outside of the passenger door the Impala and staring down the road for the first sign of Dean. He'd wanted to go and pick Dean up at the house but his boyfriend had been adamant about meeting them a few blocks away. It made sense, Dean had argued, to make sure that no one saw him leaving in their car. The Impala - even Sam had to admit - kind of stood out in the sleepy little town.

And so - Dean would meet them at nine in the morning, carrying his duffel bag. That's why Sam was staring. As soon as he saw Dean he was going to meet him half way to help with his stuff.

Kicking at a rock by his sneaker Sam glanced down into the car. John was spread across the front seat re-claiming some of the sleep he said that Sam had robbed him of.

Smiling, Sam turned his eyes back up the road. Still no sign of Dean. When he tugged his phone out of his pocket he was surprised to see that it was already nine fifteen.

Something unpleasant stirred in the pit of Sam's stomach. Hunter's instinct his Dad would call it. That gnawing sensation that something was wrong.

As far as Sam could see along the road it was empty. From where Dean lived it was only a ten minute walk to where the Winchesters were waiting.

Pacing around the car once, Sam scuffed his sneakers through the gravel and dirt. Dean would come - Sam was certain of it. He'd seen the look of joy on Dean's face when they'd talked about the places they would go. Just like anyone else his age, Dean wanted to travel; he wanted to get out and see more than his hometown had to offer.

Sam's mind drifted back over their time together. It was all so real it made his heart ache with happiness. He couldn't remember what it was like _before_ he knew the feel of Dean's hands on his body, the taste of his kisses, the heat ... Shaking his head Sam smiled as he pushed his hair back off his face.

"Sammy?" John had rolled down the window and Sam hadn't even noticed. "Where is he?" Coughing away the morning rough from his voice John pushed the door open and climbed out of the car. "What time is it, Sam?"

"He'll be here," Sam answered as he returned his gaze to the street in front of them.

"That isn't what I asked you. What's the time?"

Annoyed, Sam flipped his cell phone open again. "Nine thirty five." After a last glance up the street he turned to his Dad. "Maybe he got stuck at the house or something."

Scratching his head Sam stared back up the road. _Dean would come_. He jumped when John's hand settled on his shoulder.

"You know, Sammy. It's a pretty big decision to leave your home, your family and just take off." There was gentleness in John's voice that Sam hadn't heard in a very long time.

"He'll come Dad. He really wants this." But - there was still that nagging doubt in Sam's mind.

"What if," John sighed and squeezed Sam's shoulder before letting his hand drop. "What if he just couldn't do it or his Dad said something that made him change his mind?"

"No," Sam pushed off the car and took a few steps away. "He promised me that if he wasn't here he would let me know why. He promised, Dad." _He is the one person who's never lied to me._

John dragged his hand down his face and started back around to the driver's side of the car. "Get in - we'll head over to the house."

Sparing one last glance up the street Sam pulled his door open and slid down onto the seat. "He probably got caught up talkin' to his Dad, right?"

As he urged the car forward, John sighed. "Maybe you're right, Sam."

Of course, it only took a few minutes for them to arrive at Dean's house. There was nothing out of the ordinary that Sam could see. He pushed his door open slowly and walked up the front path.

He rapped his knuckles against the hard wooden door. Smiling, he thought of the day before and Dean answering the door all sleep-tousled and adorable. It almost made him wish that Dean had over-slept and Sam would be waking him. Laughing softly, maybe a little nervously, Sam raised his hand again and knocked harder.

Turning to the car he caught his Dad's eye and shrugged. If he leaned over far enough he could see through the front window - it was dark inside, quiet.

"Sammy?" John had a worried expression on his face.

"I'll just check around back." Sam could already feel the cold fingers of regret trailing over his flesh. Dean had promised that he wouldn't' let Sam down, leave him guessing. He'd promised not to be liked everyone else.

Climbing through the bushes at the side of the house Sam pulled himself up to Dean's bedroom window.

 _Empty_.

Even Dean's duffel was gone. Sam had helped Dean pack it just the day before. They were still naked, rosy skinned and overheated from sex. Sam had pulled out the clothes from Dean's closet that he'd though he would need and Dean was folding and packing.

Sixteen hours ago and now the room was empty. Sam let himself back down to the ground and let his forehead rest against the wall. There had to be a mistake.

"Sam?" John’s voice was soft, a deep rumble not far behind Sam. "Sam, I think it's time to go." John didn't sound mad or worried, in fact, he sounded a little relieved.

It wasn't until Sam looked up that he realized how everything had gone so wrong. He should never have let himself be so happy about something. Wishes weren't real, things didn’t' happen simply because you wanted them badly enough.

Clearing his throat Sam pushed himself back off the wall. "Give me a minute, Dad - I'm just gonna leave a note."

John didn't move for a few moments then Sam heard the crunching of his footsteps disappearing.

Searching in his pocket Sam pulled out the piece of paper and pen he'd stuck in their earlier. He'd been making a list of things to tell Dean, ways that Dean had already changed things - a gift just to help with the sadness his boyfriend might feel as they were leaving.

Now, the list just made him feel stupid. When he scratched out the things he'd written down the lines were heavy and angry. Sam's heart was already retreating behind the protection of anger. Thinking for a few moments Sam finally started to write: _Dean, You promised not to do this. Why couldn't you have been here? If you change your mind call me. 555-6785 - will have that number for a few months. Sam._

There were a million things Sam wanted to say but it all felt kind of stupid now things had worked out the way they had. Walking back around to the front door Sam folded the paper and shoved it through the mail slot. He couldn't help staring at the door for a few moments before turning and trudging back to the car and climbing in.

"Sammy-"

"Don't,' Sam cut his father off and pulled his jacket tight around him. "It was a stupid idea - you were right. Just..." he sighed. "Let's just go."

Hesitating for just a few moments John started the car up and pulled out onto the road.

Sam let his head rest against the cool glass of the window. There were tears in his eyes, on his cheeks but he didn't' bother wiping them away. He wanted to remember how much this hurt so that he wouldn't fall for it again. There was no happily ever after for people like Sam and the sooner he accepted that fact the better.

Still, he couldn't help looking for Dean's face on every person they passed as they headed out of town. There wasn't a single one with that contagious smile and sparkling green eyes.

 _Yeah_.

No happily ever after for a Winchester. Sniffing Sam closed his eyes and bit down hard on his bottom lip so his Dad wouldn't hear him cry.


	6. Chapter 6

**-=-=-=- TEN YEARS LATER-=-=-=-**

"Father Archer?"

The timid voice of the little boy stopped Dean in his tracks and he turned, smiling softly as he stepped toward him. "Yes Matthew? How can I help you?" He stooped slightly to bring himself on eye level with the child, knowing it was easier to be trusted when you shrugged off the height and presence of an adult.

Matthew twisted a rag between his fingers and Dean was temporarily distracted by the dark red stain covering the white surface. "Matthew? Is that blood? What's happened?" He reached out for the rag but the boy held onto it tight.

"There's just... it's David. He just got really angry and then his eyes turned all black and he hit Nicholas. But I don't think he meant to, really, I don't even think it was him." Matthew stumbled over the words in a rush, almost eager to ensure to Dean that his older brother wasn't a bad kid at all, that something was _wrong_.

For the third time in less than a month Dean bristled. It wasn't something that happened often, hadn't for years and years, but Dean felt the cold chill shoot down his spine in a way that left him no choice but to stand or collapse to the ground. Why this was happening now, here, he couldn't be sure, but there were some things he could only bury so deep. And this was a memory too familiar to ever be completely forgotten. "Where is your brother Matthew?"

"We locked him in the shed, because he just... he wouldn't stop hitting Nicholas. And." Matthew's shoulders trembled and Dean could hear the clog of his nose as he sniffed loudly.

Forcing himself to kneel once more, Dean put his arm around the child and pulled him forward, embracing him tightly. He'd known the Conrad family for five years now, a single mother struggling to raise two boys who might have been too much for even a full family unit. But they were good kids who tried, who came to mass each week, who were always ready with memorized verses for lessons. It was unfair that they should be left to deal with this situation.

"Why don't we go check on him okay?" Dean finally suggested when the quiet sobs from the child subsided. As Matthew stepped back, Dean smiled reassuringly and ruffled his hair. "Hey, it's going to be okay. You trust me right?"

"Yes, Father Archer." Matthew nodded and took Dean's hand as he stood.

 _Possession._

It was a term Dean hadn't spoken allowed in ten years and the word alone brought forth a swell of intensity he couldn't dwell on to save his sanity. To save his purity. It came attached to a name Dean couldn't utter even in his thoughts and, if he thought on it too long, his emotions would get the best of him.

"Why were his eyes black Father Archer?" Matthew asked with the air of innocence belonging only to a child.

Any adults who may have seen him, the handful that had seen the two other people experiencing this, denied the change of eyes, as if accepting it was simply too much. Dean found it disheartening that those of faith could believe in a God and assume there was nothing to oppose that Heavenly creature. For every good there was evil, this was something Dean knew.

"Well," Dean answered slowly, treading with caution. "Sometimes, bad things come into people, not because the people are bad, it's sadly just the way the spiritual world works." The child led him down the path outside the church, winding along a dirt back path to his house a few blocks away. "Matthew, do you remember how we learned about angels?"

"Yes sir," Matthew nodded, eyes lifting up toward him and reflecting sunshine bursting through tree branches.

"And do you remember how we learned about the Devil, and how he's against God?" Dean prompted, smiling when the boy nodded once more. "Well, the Devil has his own form of angels, though they aren't good. They're called demons and-"

"Father Archer." The crisp call of his name caused Dean's jaw to clench shut, eyes shooting up toward the robed man walking briskly down the path toward him. "What is going on here?"

Matthew opened his mouth to speak but Dean laid a hand over his shoulder, squeezing once to silence him. "Just a little trouble with the Conrad boys, nothing to worry about. It seems David got in a fight with Nicholas Perry; I was just going to make sure everyone was alright. Nothing to be concerned with Father Morton." Dean's smile was tight and forced, eyes fixed on his fellow Priest to suggest no sign of deceit. It made Dean uncomfortable to lie to the man but his attempts at addressing Possession with the last two had gone thwarted and had lost him some points of credibility. Dean knew for a fact that this was real but even those of the utmost faith struggled to believe.

"Perhaps I should accompany you, to be safe." Father Morton, Tim if they ceased to be official at any point, shifted his gaze down to the hand on Matthew's shoulder and back up.

It sickened Dean slightly that he could understand what the man wasn't saying aloud. _Never be alone with a child_. That was the first rule, above those of faith even, and Dean sighed. "If you wish." He couldn't imagine two Priests alone with a boy was any better but Dean often shied away from stirring up trouble. He'd always been that way and the one time he'd attempted to, everything had changed.

They walked the rest of the way to the Conrad house in silence. Dean was grateful that Matthew didn't pursue his questions about his brother's dark eyes. When they stepped into the back yard Nicholas Perry was leaning the shed door, blood dripping down his nose and onto his shirt. He looked terrified and Dean quickened his step, flinching when the shed door shuddered from the force of someone slamming into it.

"Nicholas, are you alright?" Dean asked swiftly and pulled him from the door, stepping in to keep it shut.

"What are you doing? Is David Conrad in there? Let him free," Father Morton insisted, staring at Dean with wide, shocked eyes.

"It's not that simple," Dean protested but Father Morton grabbed his arm and pulled, rough enough to get Dean to stumble out of the way.

The door burst open with a snarl from the boy inside and Dean felt Matthew slide in behind him, clutching to his legs.

"Well, well, look who we have here. Dumb and dumber. I do enjoy you religious folk, always so amusing." David Conrad stepped from the shed and pointed toward each Priest in turn, gaze lingering on Dean. "Don't I know you?"

"His eyes..." Father Morton whispered and a quick glance to the side told Dean that his skin was pale.

"Don't listen to what he says," Dean spoke over the demon that was babbling now about a God who'd forgotten his people and had no interest in their filthy world. Dean knelt and turned to Matthew, curling fingers over his shoulders and forcing their gazes to meet. "Get inside. Stay there. No matter what happens, _don't leave._ "

Matthew only hesitated for a moment, then a wicked, cold laugh fell from David's lips and he turned, bolting for the house as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"Aw, that's too bad, I liked that kid. He was such a _cutie_ ," the demon snarled and rolled his neck slowly. "You know, I _really_ like this town. Everyone is just so friendly and, as it turns out, they're all pretty open to me. It makes it really fun to crush them all up inside. Like Lillian, she was just a _blast_."

Dean could see Father Morton's flinch from the corner of his eyes. Lillian was the last person to deal with the possession. Now she was locked up in the state penitentiary after being convicted of killing her husband and three month old child. It was an event that had shaken this little town, following the double murder and suicide of Henry Jacobs the week before. The most horrible things to happen in Ida Grove, Iowa in the six years Dean had lived here. "In the name of the Holy Father-"

The demon cut Dean off with a solid fist into his jaw, sending him reeling to the side. "Don't waste your time, _Father_. We both know you're nowhere near strong enough to get rid of me." It stepped closer and for a moment Dean saw the lingering baby fat from the thirteen year old boy the demon was residing in. It made it very difficult to fight back. "I see that little darkness in you. I know what you like. I know what you _want_."

"Oh heavenly Father," Father Morton seemed to snap into action from beside them, stumbled back a step as he made the sign of the cross along his chest, eyes fluttering. "Remove this evil from our presence."

"Keep it up Priesty, let's see where it gets you," the demon laughed and meandered away from Dean, back to the tool shed. Father Morton continued his prayer, eyes closing as his head tilted back to the Heavens. "Oh yes, _God_ , save us! Save us! Whatever will we do?"

Dean realized what was happening too late to stop it. Father Morton continued his desperate plea, Dean could taste blood on his tongue, and David was stepping from the tool shed with a pair of garden sheers. "Tim," Dean spat, heart slamming hard into his chest.

Nicholas Perry, who Dean had forgotten was standing right there, screamed at the first loud squelch of metal being driven through black robes and into solid flesh. Dean's stomach churned bile and he coughed loudly, reaching out as if he could stop the scene from playing out. The laugh that echoed from David's body only faded as the boy's head tilted back and a thick cloud of black smoke blew upward to the sky.

"What? What's-oh my god. Oh _god_ ," David nearly screamed the word, hand still curled around the handle of the sheers that were implanted firmly in the Priests chest. Blood was pooling along the grass and for a moment everything seemed to freeze before Tim Morton's body fell limp into the puddle.

Dean could hear Nicholas being sick, could hear the sharp and quick inhales from the clearly shocked David, and his knees felt weak. Clearly this was more than it had been for him before. They needed help, needed someone like... They needed someone who could stop this demon for good.

-=-=-=-

Sam stretched his arms up high above his head before he shrugged his leather jacket off. His arm was itching like crazy. Pushing the top of his t-shirt up he checked out his week old tattoo. It was healing pretty well all things considered.

All things, being a salt and burn, a fake haunting and a bar brawl prompted by someone not liking the way Sam had looked at them. He hoped that the day stretched out ahead of him would be a little better.

Like usual, Sam had rolled out of bed late and headed out for coffee before coming back to the Motel. He hated finding new hunts – it was a pain in the ass. Small towns were usually his best bet – places where people still _cared_ about one another. They were always more likely to pay Sam something even if it was as simple as parts for the car or bags of food and supplies.

Grabbing the laptop off the table – Sam kicked out of his black leather boots and stretched out on the bed. While he waited for the wireless to connect he grabbed some moisturizer off the night stand and slathered it over the peeling tattoo. Might as well take care of it seeing as it was there. Payment for a hunt. Nothing more than a run-of-the-mill haunting but the guy who had contacted Sam was a tattoo artist. So – Sam now had a simple Japanese landscape on his upper arm.

Wiping his hands on the quilt Sam started to browse through his usual bookmarks then finally took to Google to try and find something.

An article from Iva Grove, Iowa caught his eye. Older guy killed two people then himself, a woman killed her child and her husband. “Fucked up people,” Sam muttered. That was why he kept to himself. People were just shit; they couldn’t be trusted and would sooner stab you in the back than tell you the truth. However, even for the human race – this seemed like a few too many deaths for such a tiny community.

Shaking his head Sam scrolled further down the page only to discover that the same town was also home to a thirteen year old un-named boy who had killed a Priest. _A Priest._ That was pretty heavy for a kid. Now, there was no love lost between Sam and religious folk but, _fuck_ , attacking a Priest with garden sheers at thirteen? That was pretty over the top. Overkill, always suspicious.

Sam bookmarked the page in his browser and pulled up the map program on his phone. He could get to Iva Grove in about four hours, not ideal but it seemed like a town that might be _just_ scared enough to need someone with Sam’s particular skills. He could use some cash – or some free garage time and parts so he could work on the Impala.

-=-=-=-

The drive took a bit longer than he had expected and by the time Sam pulled into town it was late afternoon. Slowing the car down to a crawl, he moved down the streets checking out the place. It was easy to spot the Church. There weren’t any tall buildings in Iva Grove and he could see the cross at the top of the small steeple glinting in the late afternoon sun.   
Leaning his arm out the window Sam tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the song on the radio. At least there was a decent station – sometimes – in these little hick towns he could only get talk radio with never ending shows about bingo and farming and local gossip or worse, loud and obnoxious preachers.

When he finally pulled up in front of the Church he realized he wasn’t even sure why he was stopping there. Whatever, it was as good a place to start as any? The most recent killing had been the Priest and there was usually more than one Father in a place like this. Climbing out of the car he stretched and stared over the cemetery in front of the small Church. The recent graves were easy to spot and there really were too many of them considering the town’s population.

Slamming the car door Sam shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it through the open window. He always liked to piss people off as soon as possible and he figured the tattoos would go a long way toward that. Smirking, Sam turned from the car and headed up the front walkway to the big Oak doors.

When he pulled the heavy doors open it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He wandered forward, eyes glancing over the message board at the front. The doors to the main Sanctuary were propped open and Sam wandered in. His boots clumped loudly on the wooden floor, his keys jangling as he strolled down the main aisle. Looking up, he brushed his hair back off his face. The stained glass was kind of cool – the Church was small – but kind of quaint. Holding out his arms Sam bumped his fingers over the end of each pew then dropped his gaze to the front altar.

There was a robed man whom Sam went ahead and deduced was a Priest. They didn’t call him hunter for nothing; finely honed investigative skills. Laughing at himself he walked up to the second pew and sat down, hooking one leg over the back of the bench in front and stretching the other down the aisle. Yet another reason _not_ to go to Church – the seating was definitely not designed for someone who was six foot four.

He watched the Priest, unsure whether the guy was praying or simply standing there. Sam generally didn’t care what people thought of him but he didn’t particularly want to interrupt the guy if he was praying or something – especially seeing as he was probably trying to deal with losing his colleague.

Clearing his throat, Sam dragged his thumb across his bottom lip. “’Scuse me, Father?”

Dean had heard the person came in but wasn't sure if he could handle another round of questions. They'd been none stop for the last few days and it was wearing on him. He sent a silent request upward and slowly curled his fingers together. Turning toward the voice, Dean's eyes fixed on the lengthy form of a person he hadn't expected ever to see again. It was possible his heart stopped and he struggled with the name, not sure he could muster up the courage to say it after so _long_. "Y-you." He whispered, eyes fluttering as if the image would clear and change to something different. It didn't, the person remained, however different. So _very_ different but still distinct features Dean pretended he never dreamed about.

"Whoa..." Sam dropped his leg off the pew and shifted forward. His stomach clenched and actually felt a little nauseous. It was the eyes that gave Dean away; just like all those years ago they were still so green and sparkling. "You've got to be _shitting_ me. You're a Priest?" Sam pushed up from the pew and stepped out in to the aisle taking a few steps backwards.

Almost on instinct Dean flinched at the curse word. It was the place of the Lord after all and there was something sacred about it, even if it was merely stone and fabric. "I. I am. Yes. And you..." Dean's eyes swept over the tattoos on the man's arms, over the hard line of his shoulders clearly visible through the thin white shirt he wore. Something he'd been trained against, brainwashed against, sparked in his mind and Dean stepped back. "You look so different." He whispered, taking another step back and another because his knees were shaking.

Blinking a few times Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, ten years will do that to ya _Father._ " The title came out sounding cold and Sam took another step backwards. "Anyway, I obviously zigged when I should have zagged and have ended up in the Twilight Zone so I'm just gonna..." he gestured in the vague direction of the door. Every time he blinked he felt a bit like there should be another person standing in front of him when he opened his eyes and each time it was still Dean he felt a little closer to throwing up.

The name still wouldn't form on Dean's tongue and he was moments from letting the man just walk out the door. He could dismiss this entire moment and try to gain his stability somehow. But pieces clicked together too quickly and Dean took a fast step forward. "Wait." He called out, stopping at the first pew and curling his fingers around the wood. The man stopped and waited, his eyes were cold enough it made Dean's chest hurt. He really had _no_ idea what had happened, though Dean knew he wouldn't. It hurt to know it was true. "We. Our town. We need your help. Please." it was hard to force the words out but Dean focused on the pained faces he'd seen too frequently over the last few weeks.

Reaching into his back pocket Sam pulled out his wallet with a shaking hand and managed to get a business card out of it. He held it up then dropped it on the pew. "Bobby Singer - give him a call. He can be here in less than a day. I-" Sam shook his head and turned quickly, striding back down the aisle. _A Priest_. After everything Dean had been through - the way his father had treated him - he'd become exactly what his father wanted. Anger was starting to bubble up inside of Sam. All these years never knowing and _this_ was how he found out.

A moment of hopelessness consumed Dean and he stared at the vacant door, heart hammering hard in his chest. It wasn't until the man could no longer be heard in the church at all that Dean managed to get himself to move. His robes billowed around his legs as he rushed down the aisle and out the door, shoving the large oak doors open and lifting a hand to shield against the bright rays of sunshine. "Sam." He called out, caught off guard by the way the name so suddenly bubbled out his lips. It nearly took his breath away and for a brief flash Dean thought he might simply burst into tears.

Clearly the name came as just a surprise to the man, Dean watched that tense line crawl down Sam’s spine and his body tense. He didn't turn, hardly acknowledged he'd heard anything except the way his steps halted. "It's possession." Dean forced himself to say around the lump in his throat. "There's a demon, Sam, and he's killing innocent people and destroying lives. Tim, Father Morton, was killed by a little boy I used to teach verses too and-" he cut himself off and stepped back, suddenly unsure if he wanted to pursue this further. It was obvious the man was anything but pleased to see him, Dean wasn't inclined to learn how much he may dislike him.

Lowering his gaze, Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Hands clenched tight into fists he turned around slowly and blinked his eyes open. Dean looked terrified and confused and Sam stared him down. "You're a _Priest_ ," he almost spat out the word, "can't you just do an exorcism yourself?" A muscle was twitching in his jaw and he rolled his shoulders trying to work out some of the tension that was strangling him. _Dean_. God, he'd fucking loved that guy. It was so stupid - Sam was so stupid. Sixteen, and just like his Dad said - it would never last.

The weight of Sam's cold stare was too much for Dean and he looked away, staring at the gentle sway of the trees. "No. I can't. Exorcism is not something often taught to Priests, not anymore. I wouldn't know how to track down the demon anyway, he's been moving around a fair bit." Taking another step back, Dean smoothed his fingers down the black cotton across his chest and slowly shook his head. "I understand you don't wish to stay. I um, I'll just call your friend. Sorry I-" Dean looked up, flinching because Sam was still staring at him and the gaze was unnerving in its intensity. "Is there anything I can do? I mean, do you need a place to stay for the night? I could call Eileen, she runs the motel." It was in Dean's nature, the desire to help others, and that had only strengthened in the past few years. It would do nothing to heal he and Sam's history but he offered regardless.

"Why didn't you show up?" Sam's face was void of emotion even if his throat was constricted so tightly he could barely breathe. Taking a step closer he felt his mouth twitch into an almost sneer. Ten years he had wanted an answer to that question; it had eaten away at Sam over the years. Unresolved and gnawing away at him - he couldn't just walk away from the answer. The trembling in his hands was now a direct result of the fact that his fists were clenched so tight he was pretty sure his nails were going to draw blood. There were so many things running through his mind - he wanted to lash out - punch Dean - but he knew that it wouldn't begin to fill the hole inside him.

It was unnecessary to ask Sam what he was referring to and within moments Dean's mind was transported to ten years ago, to the barely there glimpse of his future, a life he'd never live. "My father saw you and I kissing," Dean whispered. He would be honest, would tell Sam whatever he needed to know because lying was no longer an option. It never really had been. "They... took me away. To a gay reprogramming camp." In his mind there was the spark of memories, of all the things that had happened to him that summer, and Dean crossed his arms over his chest, staring hard at the ground. "By the time I was released, it was months later. Too late." Dean shrugged and took another step back.

A harsh laugh burst out of Sam's mouth. "So - you just go away to camp and come back wanting to be a Priest." Each time he tried to draw in a breath of air it felt like Sam's heart would break in half. "Unbelievable," he murmured. Lifting a hand Sam dragged his fingers through his hair. He'd been right - the answer did _nothing_ to change the way he'd felt the day Dean was supposed to leave with him and it did nothing to change the way he felt now.

"Listen," Sam's eyes moved to Dean's once more, "I need some parts for my car, a place to work on it and somewhere to stay. You arrange all that and I'll help you." It was obvious that _Father_ Archer wasn't any more comfortable than Sam was and the idea of staying suddenly seemed preferable to letting Dean off the hook. Yeah, it was petty and probably wouldn't make Sam feel a damn bit better but sometimes - that was just how life worked.

There was a dull ache that lived permanently in Dean's chest and, at most times, he managed to ignore it. Now though it expanded and curled inside him and Dean had to half turn away so Sam wouldn't be able to see the stricken look on his face. He wanted to tell Sam what he'd been through, what led him to this place and decisions he'd been forced to make, but it seemed unlikely to help. Dean had grown accustomed to pain in life, but it was never enjoyable. "Follow this road to the edge of town. The motel is there. I'll call Eileen and arrange things. Ben is the local mechanic, he will have whatever parts you need. I'll have him contact you." Dean stepped toward the oak doors until he could grasp one, acting as if it wasn't a support for him to remain standing. He couldn't bring himself to look at Sam so he spoke to the trees instead. "This is where I will be if you have questions. Thank you for helping." The urge to go find quiet solitude was pressing in on Dean and inhaled slowly to gain control over himself.

"So, that's it? Gonna run away again?" Shaking his head Sam stared hard at Dean's back. "You seriously think if I drive away I'm gonna come back to ask you anything?" His voice was quiet but he knew Dean could hear him. Dean was probably focused on everything he was saying. Seeing Dean was like scrambling his insides and expecting it to all work the same way. His head was aching, his heart pounding like he was getting ready for a fight. Nothing had prepared him for seeing this man again, _nothing_. Not all the times that Sam had fantasized when he was still a kid that somehow Dean would find him, apologize and have some grand story about how they'd just missed each other. Even up until a few years ago Sam still wondered. But then ... John had died. It seemed like that was just the breaking point, the place where the roads diverged and Sam opted for the road with the least amount of pain on it. It was easier to shut down than carry on feeling.

Turning to meet the gaze, Dean found himself once more shaken by how very cold it was. He searched hazel for the memory of the only person he'd ever loved, the person he would have give anything for if only he could. "I never ran away." Dean corrected, not wishing to fight with Sam but sensing he saw things through a very different set of eyes. "I was given no choice in the matter. Two men twice the size of you dragged me away and threw me in a van. I'm sorry I could never tell you." Dean looked down at the cement before him and pressed his fingers into his heart because it _hurt_. "If you never wish to see me or talk to me again, I won't force you. I simply appreciate your help, these are good people and don't deserve this suffering." Looking back up, Dean could see that Sam wasn't pleased by being thanked. He tried to remember Sam's smile but that only made the ache in his chest swell to bursting.

"You're _so_ different." Sam couldn't see the boy he'd fallen in love with. This was such a different version of Dean - like all the edges had been buffed off of him time and time again until there was only a small piece of him left. He was watered down. It was in that moment Sam realized he had to get away from the Church - away from Dean. There was no clear idea in Sam's mind of what he had wanted, a fight, some sort of believable excuse, to see Dean's smile, for Dean to tell him it was all real. He had no idea what he wanted beyond wanting to get the hell away from Dean.

 _Gazing over at the Priest Sam felt his expression soften for a moment then confusion tore through him again and he turned quickly. "I'll be at the motel," he tossed over his shoulder like it actually mattered. There was no way that Dean would come to him. No reason to. When Sam reached out for the car door he could see his hand shaking; that hadn't happened since he was a kid. Nothing rattled him anymore; he'd seen pretty much everything there was to see - a lifetime of hunting had seen to that. But this? He wasn't prepared for this. Sinking down onto the front seat Sam glanced back toward the Church where Dean was still standing. _Father Archer._ There weren't big enough swear words for this one. Their eyes locked for a few moments and Sam nearly got back out of the car; he was itching for a fight, a confrontation, something that would make him feel. Dean had apologized, handed Sam a perfectly plausible excuse, looked at him with that half way to blank _Priest_ stare and Sam felt nothing._

It was odd, the way Dean's heart seemed to stutter in protest as Sam drove away. A large part of him already believed that he wouldn't see the man again and that had him turning away, tugging the doors of his church open. Dean locked the door and pulled at his robe, settling for just the black pants and shirt, white collar still visible. The only reason he'd worn the robe in the first place was because a church official had been expected that morning. With the death of Father Morton, Dean was currently running the church alone, the two other men who usually resided there had taken a sabbatical not a week ago.

Dean could use a sabbatical now, some time to simply sit and dwell on Sam, how he'd changed, what he'd lost. He wouldn't though. Dwelling on Sam, it was no longer a possibility. Instead he walked swiftly to the back office and pulled the phone close. It wasn't like Sam was going to come back at any moment and ask to sit down, have a conversation, but Dean would do all in his power to ensure the man was taken care of while in this town. Maybe he'd even dip into the church funds to send Sam some money, because the idea of sending him away with nothing but stale memories of their re-acquaintances was almost unbearable.

-=-=-=-

The storm inside Sam broke when he was what he assumed was about halfway to the Motel. Shaking so badly he could barely hold the steering wheel Sam pulled over. As the dust settled around the car, Sam's lungs struggled to pull in air. This was _not_ what Sam had planned for: far from it.

 _This_ was enough to have Sam wishing his father was still alive because even John Winchester wouldn't have seen this coming. There was something completely _wrong_ about the memories that still lingered in Sam's mind after all these years. Flushed skin, his fingers splayed across Dean's bare hip, that burning heat clamped around his cock.

Laughter that closely bordered on hysterical busted out of Sam. _Father Dean Archer_ \- Sam's first love - his first fuck. "A Catholic fucking Priest." Sam spoke out-loud because he was having trouble believing he wasn't having some crazy drug-induced nightmare. _A Priest with a demon problem._ It was like the beginning to a dirty joke.

By the time Sam pulled the Impala back on to the road he felt calmer, more centered. Enough time had passed that he'd almost managed to convince himself that he could just get what he needed - deal with the demon and get out If it weren't for the sweat that was still coating the palms of his hands - it would be just like any other case.

The Motel was small, unassuming and well cared for even if it was past its prime. Not that Sam really cared; most of the places he stayed had carpet so filthy he didn't' even bother taking his boots off. Sleeping _under_ the sheets looked like it might be a distinct possibility at this place.

Eilleen or Ellen - Sam had already forgotten her name - was nice enough. Father Archer, she assured him, had telephoned and explained that Sam was a guest of the Parrish. When he left the office he had a room key, directions to the local garage and the Sheriff's telephone number. Sam had spent a little too much time on the wrong side of the law to be making use of that one. Eileen or Ellen had even let Sam know that the cafe round the corner would provide his meals - they would even deliver. Dean had been busy since Sam had left the Church.

Unloading the car quickly, Sam unlocked his room and stepped through the door. Far better than what he was used to, Sam would be quite comfortable there.

Salting the doors and windows was the first thing Sam did at any Motel. The Demon in Iva Grove sounded like a nasty piece of work. There was no way Sam wanted to have a surprise run in with it.

His hand lifted unconsciously to his chest - to the spot where he'd had a protective charm tattooed. Seeing Dean possessed all those years ago had left images seared into Sam's mind that he'd learned to live with - but - as soon as he's tumbled across a tattoo that could protect him - he'd been glad to get it. Possession wasn't something to fuck around with.

Toeing off his boots Sam sank gratefully onto the soft bed. The drive , and no doubt, the encounter with Dean had drained him. By the time he'd managed to fluff up the pillows and roll over on to his stomach - his lashes were already fluttering closed.

-=-=-=-

It was probably only supper time when Sam awoke but he felt as though he’d been asleep for days. His eyes were sticky and sore, his throat raw and dry.   
In only a few moments everything cascaded back into his mind and he groaned. If it weren’t for the fact that the Impala’s carburetor was on its last legs Sam would have headed out the moment he saw Dean.

Dean. _Jesus Christ_. Sam groaned again. He was gonna have to come up with a whole new vocabulary because the irony was killing him. Rolling over to face the window Sam could see the golden light of the late afternoon glow behind the curtains. A dull rumble sounded in his midsection. There was nothing in Sam’s bags for him to eat so he was going to have to make a trip over to the café sooner rather than later.   
Stretching his arms high up above his head he wrinkled his nose at the smell of stale sweat. He should definitely find time for a shower before he subjected anyone to his company. Dropping his feet to the floor he padded over to the small bathroom and closed the door.

-=-=-=-

The café was small and homey – there were local historical photos on most of the walls and someone’s paintings were for sale near the cash register. Sighing, Sam walked up to the front counter and stood by the _wait to be seated_ sign as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

"Hi there," a petite blonde stepped up to Sam, head tilted up with a grin. "Just one today?" She was already leading him down the row, stopping at the side of the booth and gesturing toward the seat. "Want a few minutes to look over things? Or can I go ahead and get things started for you?" Her grin brightened and she pulled up a notebook.

Sam knew the kind of place he was in. “Club Sandwich and a beer.” He smiled vacantly and added; “please” when he looked up at realized the girl was smiling at him. “Hey, I’m staying over at the Motel – Eileen … uh Ellen? She said my bill would be covered here. Sam Winchester?” Leaning back in the small booth he stretched his legs out under the table and crossed them at the ankle.

The girl scrunched her face up for a moment before nodding. "Oh yeah, Eileen. Yup. I seem to remember that. Father Archer said you were to be looked after." She smiled and scribbled a note at the bottom of the paper she was writing on. "Anything else? Pie or anything? Our cook Jimmy makes one excellent peach cobbler," the girl flipped her hair over her shoulder, shamelessly flirting with Sam.

“If you think it’s great – then, yeah, I’d love to try the Cobbler as well. So-“ Sam glanced down at her name tag, “Katie, you live around here?” Sam grinned making it obvious that he knew it sounded like a cheap pick-up line.

Leaning against the side of the booth Katie nodded swiftly, clearly pleased at Sam's attention. "Born and raised. Probably seems nothing to an outsider like you, but minus a few problems, Iva Grove is just..." she shrugged and twirled hair around her finger. "What brings you here anyway? Not really the most ideal vacation spot."

Leaning forward, Sam flashed his brightest _fake_ smile at the young woman – small town – she’s probably be a little into the whole _bad boy_ thing he had going on – but was raised to believe that men should be polite and sweet. Being a hunter had taught Sam a great deal about human nature, mostly the darker side of it, but it came in handy.

There were a few people in the café – most of the clustered around the back counter drinking coffee. They were staring; Sam was used to it. If his height made him stand out then his tattoos and leather jacket were just the icing on the cake. Most of the small towns that he passed through weren’t used to people who looked like him – hell – in a lot of places his reception fell just short of hostile. So far, Sam would gauge the room here – as undecided.

“Well,” he finally answered, “I’m doing some work for De…uh Father Archer. We go way back. Hey, Katie – I can’t ask most people about this." Still smiling warmly Sam leaned forward across the table, "what's been going on here lately? I mean, I read the paper..."

The smile on Katie's face dimmed slightly and she stepped away from the booth, shrugging. "It's uh, I don't really know. I can't really talk about it. I... um, I'm just going to get your order in." She pursed her lips and spun on her heels, walking quickly around the back counter.

"Damnit," Sam shifted his feet restlessly under the table and sat back. _Katie_ was probably Sam's best shot at getting information; he sure as _hell_ wasn't going back to the Church. Gazing back over at the other patrons Sam didn't see anyone who seemed   
like they would be particularly chatty. Turning to stare out the window Sam's thoughts drifted back to his earlier encounter with Dean. If there had been a _single_ positive thing about it - It would have been one of those things that people called _serendipity_ or _fate_. The odds of them meeting again were almost astronomical and over a possession again.

He still found it next to impossible to get his brain wrapped around Dean choosing to become a Priest. And, it _was_ a choice. Dean had to have spent most of the last ten years committing his life to the Church. Now, Sam was no expert on the Seminary but he knew that it was not two year program. If Dean had really wanted a different life he could have left at any time. He could walk away that very day.   
"Here you go, Sam," Katie slid a beer on the table, a sandwich beside it and a piece of peach cobbler following. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you." She smiled politely, not nearly as flirty and carefree as she had been before.

"Listen, Katie - I'm sorry for asking... what I said before. Spend too much time by myself - I forget my manners sometimes." Blinking slowly, Sam looked up at her from under his hair and gave her a crooked grin. Waiting until her smile seemed a little more relaxed again, Sam asked "hey is there a bar around here? Some place I can walk to?" He let his eyes trailed down Katie's body appreciatively. It wasn't that he was actually interested but he'd worked with a lot of young woman over the years and Sam figured they all liked to be looked at even if they would deny it when asked.

Catching her lower lip between her teeth Katie looked to the side, cheeks flushing in a bright blush. "Yeah, there's Rick's place, just a couple blocks that way." Katie pointed down the road and smiled at Sam. "And it's okay. I don't blame you for being curious. It's just... I used to babysit for Lillian you know? And, I'd never, what happened," Katie blew out a quick breath, eyes watering as she rapidly shook her head. "Well just holler if you need anything." She briefly smiled at him before turning away once more.

Sam watched her walk away, noting the tension in her shoulders. It wasn't that he didn't believe Dean - Father Archer - if anyone could recognize a Demon it would be him but the damned thing could be anywhere and Sam didn't know anyone in Iva Grove. It was a little disconcerting to feel like he could walk right past the demon if it were riding someone and without that tell of slick black eyes Sam probably wouldn’t even know.

Katie hadn’t lingered at the table longer than she had to. Things could change pretty suddenly when you asked about murder; but then, Sam was used to being the unpopular guy in the room. Eating quickly, Sam was finished in about fifteen minutes; he did take a little time with the peach cobbler because it actually _was_ good. When he was finished, Sam left a big tip and slid out of the booth to stretch.

Nodding over at Katie Sam smiled. She was maybe seventeen at the most, definitely not old enough to go to a bar. "Maybe I'll see you over there later? Rick's?' He winked at her as he walked backwards slowly.

"Not likely," Katie smiled softly and ducked her head, clearly pleased at being asked at least. "But I work a lot, so if you're in town a while." She shrugged and flipped her hair over her shoulder, giving Sam a wider smile. "Don't be a stranger."

Grinning, Sam turned and strode out into the evening air. Squinting slightly to block out the streetlights, Sam could _just_ see a sign lit up down the street. _Rick's_. Hopefully, if he couldn't get answers he could at least end up with a good buzz before he had to head back to the Motel.

-=-=-=-

Sliding onto a tall bar stool Sam leaned back against the bar. It was a small place, pretty typical, had that stale beer and smoke smell of an old bar. There was a stuffed mountain lion on the end of the bar that Sam found kind of disturbing. Taxidermy was creepier than any demon he'd ever encountered. He was still locked into a staring match with the mountain lion when the bartender walked up behind him.

"What can I get you son?" The man busied himself wiping a glass that was already clean with his rag, eyes fixed on Sam.

Tearing his eyes away from the big cat Sam turned slowly to face the bartender. "Beer - whatever's on tap."

"Was a gift," the man said, voice gruff as he twisted the glass in his grip and filled it easily from the tap. Gesturing with his shoulder to the end of the bar and the stuffed cat there, he continued, "good friend of mine shot that thing after a non-stop week of tracking him." The words were said lose and easy, as if the man had told the story a million times. Leaning forward he sat the glass on the bar in front of Sam and nodded. "Let me know when you want another."

Sam tilted his chin up in thanks and turned back to face the open part of the bar. There were a couple of old guys huddled over a table and nursing their pints. A pool table was stretched along the back wall by the juke box which was, rather unfortunately, playing Patsy Cline. Scratching his head, Sam turned slightly to pick up his beer and take a few long swallows.

Watching the room carefully, Sam waited until a couple of guys headed toward the pool table then slipped off his bar stool and sauntered across the bar. The men looked like they were around the same age as Sam, maybe a bit younger. "Hey, you guys live in town here?" Sam smiled and leaned against the side of the juke box.

Their eyes met for a moment before the brunette nodded to his friend, some sort of silent communication. "Yeah, we've lived here our whole lives. I'm Drew, this is Casey." Drew gestured to the blonde at his side before grabbing his beer and taking a long drink.

"So - I just got into town, what's it like here? Y'all have a lot of fun on the weekends? Why's everyone look so serious when I ask questions?" Sam scratched at the back of his neck and gave _innocent_ a good shot. He'd never done very well at looking innocent.

Casey snorted a laugh and shook his head. Drew answered. "Yeah, you're obviously new around here. Nothing fun in Iva Grove. It's been a weird few weeks, people dying and all. This kid next door stabbed a Prie-" Drew cut off sharply when Casey slapped a hand hard into his midsection. Looking to the side, Drew frowned and shrugged. "What's your name anyway? Why are you here?"

"Sam," he stepped forward and held out his hand, "I'm just passin' through town, thought I might stay here for a few days."

Moving to meet the step Drew shook Sam's hand. Casey just lingered along the background and nodded a greeting. "Not much worth staying here for unless you've got someone around. It's our town though, so we're loyal to the core."

"You're not a reporter right?" Casey finally spoke up, pinning Sam with distrusting eyes.

"A reporter?" Sam laughed, "do I look like I have a job?" Leaning back against the Juke Box again Sam's laughter died down. "I just do odd jobs - pick up work where I can." Always best to stick as close to the truth as you can. One of John Winchester's old rules.

This seemed to satisfy Drew who relaxed and reclaimed his beer. Casey continued to watch Sam, that lingering distrust almost palpable. "I like your tats man, don't see a lot of people like you around here. We don't even have a parlour in town. Where you from originally then?"

Focusing on Drew, Sam lifted his glass to his lips again and chuckled quietly before taking a drink. "Thanks, Sam scratched at his new tattoo for a few moments before remembering he wasn't supposed to. "I'm from Lawrence, Kansas - a million damn years ago, been on the road a while." Taking a few steps closer to the table Sam took another drink of his beer. "So what's all this about people dyin'? There a sickness goin' around town or somethin'?"

"No, not really," Drew slowly shook his head and stared down at his beer. "I mean, I guess, kind of." He sighed, clearly a bit at odds with what was happening in his town. "It's like, they change into different people you know?" Drew looked up at Sam, gauging his reaction. "The things they say, the way they talk. I've never seen it or anything but Nick, he was there when David went all batshit on Father Morton, he said David's eyes were all dark and he was saying some real nasty shit like-"

Again Drew cut off at the sharp slap of a hand on his midsection and Casey stepped forward. "I really don't think it's any of your business _Sam_. So you should just butt out." He stared in annoyance up at Sam, eyes narrowed.

"Casey, you're gettin' your boxers in a bit of a bunch there aren't ya?" Sam smiled down at him. There were a few advantages to being six foot four. "You should relax," he said quietly as his smile faded.

"Don't tell me to relax. You can't just come in here and ask about private things without expecting someone to protest." Casey snapped in return.

Beside him, Drew frowned and shook his head. "Dude, it's just genuine curiosity. Wouldn't you wonder if you read or heard about this shit? Mom's killing their babies? Kids killing Priests? That is some _fucked up_ shit." Drew looked apologetically up at Sam and shrugged.

"It's none of his damn business," Casey shot a pointed look toward the other people watching in the bar before looking back at Sam. "You should just go sit back down and keep your mouth shut before someone has a bigger issue with what you're asking." Casey advised in an undertone.

"Don't see how I'm doin' anything wrong." Sam took a few steps back to lean on the Juke box again. When Casey's eyes were on Drew Sam slid his beer onto the ledge behind him. More than his far share of bar fights had taught Sam that it was always better to have both his hands free.

"How would you like it if tragedy hit your town and some punk ass stranger came in questioning things?" Casey stepped forward, fists clenching.

"Is there a problem here?" An older man came into the conversation, looking once at Casey before fixing his gaze on Sam.

"Just putting the outsider in his place," Casey grumbled, stance not shifting.

"No problem from my end," Sam nodded a greeting at the older man. "I think Casey here," he gestured with a nod of his head, "needs to learn who _not_ to pick fights with. Shifting his weight, Sam pushed up off the Juke Box and widened his stance slightly. Never hurt to be ready for anything, even someone who probably couldn't do a damn bit of damage to Sam.

"Is that a threat?" Casey nearly growled the words, stepping closer. "What do you think Jacob? This guy's been asking about the deaths and he seems a fair bit to curious if you ask me."

The older man, Jacob, shifted his stance to meet Sam's and glared. "I'd say that's none of his business. Why don't you just go sit down son?"

"Far as I can see, there's no reason why I can't be standing right here." Sam was starting to get pretty pissed off. It wasn't like he actually _wanted_ to be in their _shit hole_ of a town. "I'm just," Sam reached behind him and picked up his beer, " _trying_ to have a beer and your boy Dewey over here is being kinda unfriendly."

"It's Casey you dipshit," the man snapped and stepped forward, raising his fist.

"Is there a problem here gentlemen?" Dean stepped between Casey and Sam swiftly, not even flinching at the fight he'd just barely interrupted in time.

"Father Archer," Casey dropped his hand instantly and stepped back. "We were just _discussing_ the right for privacy with this man here."

Dean's eyebrows lifted slightly and he turned slightly to glance up at Sam before looking back at Casey and Jacob, Drew lingering uncertainly in the background. "No harm in a few questions. Let's just keep it friendly yeah? You know how Rick likes his bar nice and peaceful."

"Maybe it's best if he just goes," Jacob suggested, tone still hard and guarded.

"Ya know, you people sure have a strange way of welcoming people to town." Sam drained his beer and slammed the empty glass down on the ledge behind him. The last person that Sam needed to see was Dean, there wasn't nearly enough alcohol in his system yet for another encounter with the man of the _cloth_. Glaring at Dean, Sam brushed past him and headed for the door. If these people wanted him out of town so badly, maybe he would just pack up in the morning and head out.

With a sigh Dean rubbed at his brow for a moment and shook his head. When he'd gotten the call from Rick about the stranger stirring up things in the bar, he'd expected it to be Sam. It hadn't made it any easier to come down here and ensure nothing happened.

"Sorry Father," Casey murmured, sinking back a step and looking much less threatening than he had a few minutes ago.

"It certainly isn't a sign of hospitality Casey. Try and be more civil next time alright?" He nodded at the man before turning to head out of the bar. His hand lifted in a wave to Rick, who nodded in return, before he pushed the door of the bar open and stepped outside.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam was heading in the direction of the motel in a slow walk and Dean looked the opposite way down the street to his church before turning and quickening his steps to catch up with Sam. "I'm sorry about them, Sam. Everything that's been happening it's really shaken people up and they're just not sure how to react." Dean shoved his hands in his pockets, glancing up and over at Sam uncertainly. It still hurt to even think the man's name but he was trying.

 _God_ , every time Dean said his name Sam could feel it travel all the way down his spine. Rubbing at the back of his neck Sam glanced at Dean out of the corner of his eye. The white collar was almost glowing in the dark, "ya ever take that thing off?"

"I'm not really supposed too. Outside sleep." Dean said quietly, hands curling inside his pockets. "At least I'm not wearing the robe too?" He offered and gave Sam just the briefest smile.

There was no smile on Sam's face. "No one wants me here, Dea-" Jaw snapping shut Sam's eyes darted over to Dean. "I'm not calling you anything official." His eyes dropped and trailed along the ground just ahead of his footsteps. "I can't," he murmured.

Even the beginning of his name on Sam's tongue made him shudder slightly. "You can call me Dean." He said quietly, watching Sam's feet move along the ground. "They don't know you're here to help. Most of them can't even understand what's happening and I'm not really supposed to talk about it. I've tried but, well, you know better than anyone. It's not the easiest to talk about or accept." Dean could remember how it was in the wake of his possession, how terrifying that was.

That brought cold laughter from Sam. "Well, they could always hook up with someone - having a good fuck seems to help _survivors_ get over it." He spat the last words like they tasted bad and they did. He'd had ten years to think about what happened, to wonder if maybe Dean had figured out that he didn't want to hang around with some scraggly sixteen year old.

Surprised by the way the words made his gut churn, Dean's steps faltered and he drew to a stop. "I..." He frowned and shook his head. "It was never like that. Never." Dean had always expected Sam to hold misconceptions about the way they ended, and he once thought how much he'd like to explain everything, but clearly it went deeper than Dean knew. The ache in his chest grew and he stepped back. "Perhaps I should go."

Sam's hand snapped out before he was even really aware of it, his long fingers curled around the warmth of Dean's wrist. Both of them stopped moving for a few moments, and Sam's heart was beating so loud he was almost convinced that Dean could hear it. When he took a step back their shoulders brushed and Sam tilted his head to the side. "What was it... like? If it wasn't like that?" Emotion was spinning out of control in Sam's gut and he tightened his grip on Dean's wrist.

Over the years, Dean had grown accustomed to not being touched. But it wasn't this touch now that made his heart race, it was the fact that it was _Sam_ and he'd never forgotten just how the man could make him feel. No matter how repressed it may be. "It was... you were the only person I ever really loved." Dean whispered and stared up at Sam, breathing slowly in attempts to control the spike in his emotions. He couldn't go through this again, despite being twenty eight years old fear and paranoia at being caught flared up in him and Dean's shoulders shook. "You were never just... you were my only and..." Dean looked away, wishing he was strong enough to pull his wrist free. He should have been but wasn't.

Sam's thumb passed over the tender underside of Dean's wrist. There were a thousand reasons flooding his mind for why he should walk away _right_ that instant, a thousand hurts and so much grief and pain that it was almost overwhelming. "And now?" Sam's voice was soft and he turned slightly, his breath caught somewhere in his chest when the familiar scent of _Dean_ was suddenly everywhere around him. Ducking his head down until he could almost see Dean's eyes Sam whispered, "what am I to you now?"

Air caught in Dean's throat and a sharp inhale sent Sam's scent coursing through him. Dean could just barely pick out the little things that he remembered from all those years ago. "I. I never stopped loving..." Dean choked on the words and swayed forward because Sam felt like a magnet he couldn't break himself from. The first time it had all happened to fast but was _so_ amazing and Dean could easily see it happening all over again. Then his mind sparked with images, with the haunting memories of months locked away and brainwashed.

Pushing back, Dean stumbled when his hand was tugged free. His eyes fluttered rapidly and he turned, shaking his head roughly. "I can't. This. I." Dean shook his head harder and nearly ran down the street away from Sam. This wouldn't help things, would only damage things between Sam and himself, but it was probably for the best. Dean was in no place to be anything. He couldn't accept... _everything_. Hiding away was the best option; there was nothing more he could do. Sam would probably hate him now, possibly already did, but Dean had also grown accustomed to the hollow feeling in his chest.

Until the moment Dean wrenched his arm free - Sam had been pretty cocky - figured there was nothing that could hurt him. But this, feeling the _absence_ of Dean yet again, feeling it, perhaps, even more intensely than he ever had before was probably the worst thing Sam had ever felt. Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain that was coursing through his system he shook his head slowly and reached up to push his hair back off his face. Dean's footsteps were still there, barely audible over the sounds of the sleepy town. They were fading.

Smiling wryly, Sam didn't bother turning to watch Dean leaving. The Motel wasn't far and bed seemed like a pretty good idea.

-=-=-=-

Opting for an early start, Sam was up and showered by eight a.m. and trudging down the main street toward the Church. From any point in town the Church spire was visible. It wasn't all that impressive but there it was, gleaming white and clear as day from almost anywhere in town. It definitely said something about the town that the Catholic Church was the town's _heart_. Ironically, religious communities could be the most difficult to deal with when it came to hunts. The way the young men had treated Sam in the bar the night before was nothing new to him. It was normal, in a place like this community was everything. These people relied on one another to get by; they were each other's neighbours and friends, lovers and family. They were everything to each other.

Sam's hand was on the sun-warmed metal of the Church door handle by the time he was pulled from his thoughts. He'd realized late the night before that he wasn't going to accomplish anything unless he could get Dean's help. One of the only people in town that might be able to help Sam to get the information he needed was Dean, like it or not.

The door squeaked shut behind him and Sam could feel the muffled silence of the building settle around him. _Always so quiet._ There was a young woman working in a small room off to the right of the entrance. She probably wasn't long out of high school, looked pretty young to Sam. "Excuse me; I'm looking for De, uh Father Archer?" Sam smiled and stepped closer.

Glancing up, the girl nodded then did a double take, eyes widening slightly. "Sure. The Father is in his study but he's always open for walk ins. Follow me." She led Sam out of the room and down a hallway, turning a corner. "My name is Melissa. I don't think I've seen you around here before." She said cheerfully as she guided them through the building.

Eyes moving over the dark walls, Sam followed along behind her, "I'm Sam, old friend of Father Archer's." Lips curling into a cold smile Sam shook his head. "If he's busy or something I can come back." Sam was starting to feel a bit like he was torturing himself unnecessarily. He really _could_ just call Singer and tell him to head on out. Odds were that he would make it before someone else was killed. Odds. Not working so well in Sam's favour lately.

Melissa's eyes widened and her steps hesitated for a moment. "You're Sam? Like, _the_ Sam?" She stared at him for a long moment, gaze drifting down to his feet and back up before turning and continuing down the hallway. "No, I'm certain Father Archer doesn't mind the interruption. Just this way." She gestured down a short hallway, turning the corner.

"He's mentioned me?" Sam almost stumbled. He found it hard to believe that Dean had thought much about him over the years - finding out he might have mentioned him was kind of jarring. Breathing in slowly he rolled his shoulders and almost ran into Melissa when she stopped at a closed door.

Smiling softly Melissa reached out and grabbed Sam's elbow to stabilize him. "Yup, here and there over the years. You're the only person from his past I've ever heard him mention." Melissa's smile turned slightly mischievous as she stopped in front a closed door. Leaning forward, she whispered conspiratorially. "Father Archer is a bit of a mystery around here. It took _years_ for the town folk to warm up to him. The man is still a bit of a puzzle to most people but he's friendly and kind, and level headed without being overtly religious. Some people need that fresh take on life. Anyway, here's his office." Melissa straightened up and tapped on the door, cracking it open a moment later. "Father? Sam's here to see you." She smiled at Sam as she stepped back and gestured into the open doorway. "Nice meeting you Sam, feel free to stop by and say hello whenever."

A half-hearted smile on his face, Sam held up a hand as Melissa turned to go. Dean's office was small and the first thing that caught Sam's eye was all the books. Row upon row of gilded titles lined the single wall of shelves. Stepping into the room Sam kept his eyes down. "If I'm gonna get out of here soon - I'm gonna need your help."

Dean, who had been staring out the window for the last two hours, had to blink light from his eyes in order to properly focus on Sam when he turned to him. For just a moment he felt compelled to cross the room and tug Sam into his arms, hold him close in a tight hug. He didn't. "Let me know what I can do." Dean said quietly and walked toward the desk, leaning against the front of it.

"These people don't trust me." Sam tried to keep his eyes off Dean's face. He was through with trying to pretend this was anything other than a bad few days he had to _live_ through. Exorcise the demons and get the hell back on the road - that was what he needed to do. "I can't even find out if people have been acting differently. "Got nowhere to start." Leaning back against the door Sam stared down at the patterns in the worn wooden floor. Somewhere in his mind he kept thinking, I'll just wait another half a minute then try to look at him but then that moment wouldn't come.

Watching Sam, trying to gauge what was going on in his mind, Dean frowned slightly and pushed off the desk, half stepping forward. "I think people might be more willing to speak with you if I were there too. If that's alright. We can talk to however you'd like, my schedule is mostly free for the day." Dean didn't mention that he needed to prepare a sermon for mass, there was time for that in the night when he was trying desperately not to think about how close Sam now was.

Scratching nervously at his forehead, Sam finally glanced up at Dean before averting his eyes to look out the window. "These people," he licked his lips, "they have a lot of respect for you. You did good - for yourself I mean. You know," he waved his hand dismissively. If he were to be completely honest, it was a life that he would have wanted for himself once upon a time. Well, not the Priest part, but living in a small town somewhere - being well enough known that you could break up a bar fight by simply walking into a room. _Respect._ Sam wasn't sure he'd ever really had that from anyone - except fleetingly from one or two guys who were on the receiving end of his left hook.

Surprised by the comment, Dean looked away and shook his head. "I don't think you can really say that not knowing..." He pursed his lips and reached up to touch his collar, frowning now down at the ground. "Well. Shall we go talk to some of the people who possibly saw those possessed before it happened? I've been listening in on things but can't seem to locate a place the demon is now." Dean couldn't really talk about his past, not now, to Sam. He wouldn't even know where to begin.

Sam stayed in front of the office door. "You know I hated you for a while but," he dragged his hand down his face, "I don't know. I mean, I'm over it - you - us." _Liar_. All Sam had managed to do was learn in ten years how to never care about someone enough to get hurt - shoot before he got shot.

"Oh." Dean looked down at the ground, chest aching as the words stabbed through him. "I um. Well." He nodded and turned away, walking behind his desk to fiddle pointless with papers so it would be so obvious to Sam how the simple notion that he no longer cared for Dean hurt more than still loving him after all these years. "I don't really know what to say to that." He finally whispered and shrugged, turning his back to Sam because he couldn't risk their eyes meeting.

Sam felt a little sick thrill at the idea that he could still hurt Dean - it was childish, and all that happened was Sam's heart felt that twist of pain again. _Always wanting what you can't have, Sammy._ "Well," he shrugged a shoulder, watching Dean's fingers move restlessly over his desk, "you're married to the Church I guess, right? I mean, I don't know _shit_ about being a Priest." Pressing his lips together he slumped back against the door and propped one booted foot up against it. Dean wasn't getting out of _this_ room until Sam was ready for it.

"I was under the impression you wanted to take care of this demon and leave." Dean spoke after several moments, gaze continually turned away. "If that's the case, then standing here and discussing something you don't even care about isn't going to help things. So if you would still like my assistance," he gestured vaguely and finally looked up at Sam even though his eyes were still blurred with unshed tears.

The distance across the room seemed too far and entirely too little all at once. Sam had faced down a lot of shit in his time but this thing with him and Dean was bigger than he'd expected it to be. Glancing up he frowned at the Priest's glassy green eyes. "So...what? You still care? Is that what they teach you at Seminary school? Or was that in your gay rehab summer camp? How to care about ex-lovers and still carry on with life as though it didn't matter..." He knew he sounded bitter but, _fuck it_ , he was bitter. If things with Dean had been different when he was sixteen then Sam's life could have gone a completely different direction.

Oh, Sam had run through all the possible outcomes. They could have spent only a few months on the road before things went south, Dean might have moved on eventually, they could have hunted together, hell, even settled down somewhere - the thing was - _some_ kind of relationship like that might have been the foundation Sam needed to be _someone_ , someone that mattered.

Shoulders tensing Dean looked away and blew in a quick breath to keep from getting angry. "Don't pretend like you know what happened to me. The things they did. You could never even imagine." His fingers curled in tight fists and Dean's stomach churned uncomfortably. Unbidden his thoughts sparked over hours of memories that could only be called torture. A shudder coursed down his spine and Dean's knees weakened enough he was forced to sit heavily in his chair. "Sam, what is the point of this? You said you're over it, what should it matter how I feel?" He told Sam how he felt the night before, if the man didn't decipher it than that was his problem, though clearly not much of one anyway. Sam was over him.

Walking further into the room Sam moved around behind the desk and dropped down onto the edge of it, knee rocking back and forth - bumping into the arm of Dean's chair. "Are you happy, Dean?" A woman had asked Sam that once, _was he happy?_. Sam wasn't happy, he was alive. Happy was something he hadn't been in ten years because happy? That shit just got your heart broken. His eyes slid up Dean's black shirt, the collar gleaming white like some sort of warning. After everything Sam had seen he wasn't even sure that happy existed; sometimes, he wondered if people simply learned to accept their lot in life. It was just that some _lots_ were better than others.

The question shouldn't have been as hard to answer as it was but Dean suddenly felt empty at just the thought. "No." He whispered and stared at his desk, shaking his head slowly. "Are you?" Dean looked up at Sam, giving in to this line of conversation since it seemed Sam wasn't interested in dropping it.

"Some people aren't meant to be particularly happy." Sam lifted his gaze and his eyes finally settled on Dean's. It was so strange. People age but some things are always the same - Dean's eyes were the same. Ten years hadn't changed the green, the way the man wore his emotions on his face. There were more fine lines at the corners, his skin had darkened a little, and there were still those freckles. "My Dad died three years ago," it was a declaration, nothing more nothing less. Staring straight into those glassy pools of green Sam licked his lips, "I don't think he was every really happy either. Guess we're three of a kind."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dean said softly. He'd always liked John Winchester, the world felt safe knowing he was around to kill creatures. "My father died about six years ago. Which doesn't really matter much but I don't think he was happy much either. Though I suppose my peers would say there's an answer for that." Dean looked up toward Sam, spinning his chair until their bodies almost touched. He could feel Sam's warmth and it unsettled him.

"Your peers..." Sam shifted closer so his leg rested against Dean's trapping it against the desk. "So, the other Priests would say _what_ to Father Archer about everyone's lack of happiness?" The sensation in Sam's stomach was somewhere in between anticipation and dread. "Did we deserve to be unhappy because of who we were?" Sam shrugged a shoulder, eyes still holding Dean's, "or what we did?"

"No one deserves to be unhappy Sam." Dean whispered, staring at the place their legs touched. "I believe the other Priests would advise religion." Dean knew he should push away from the touch, stand up and put distance between them. This was torture. "Does it hurt to be so cold?" Dean met his gaze, thinking maybe he'd shake Sam up enough to cease this conversation.

"What?" Sam fought the urge to recoil and simply moved his leg away. "You think _I'm_ cold? When was the last time you touched someone, _really_ touched someone, or felt something - you think you're better than me because you hide behind that collar?" Sam pushed up from the desk. "We all hide Dean. Some of us are just better at it than others." He felt his expression harden again and pushed up off the desk. "So - you're right - obviously this is a _pointless_ conversation."

"I never said I wasn't cold." Dean breathed and stood, walking around the desk and heading for the door. He had told himself ending the conversation was what he wanted. It wasn't true and that ache in Dean felt so deep it was inescapable. "Shall I take you to someone who can tell you what they saw? Or would you like my version of the story?" Dean wanted to tap into the anger and hurt coursing through him, he wanted to scream and throw things, he wanted to slam Sam up against the wall... but he couldn't do all those things. So instead he walked toward the door, stopping inches from it.

"Fine," Sam's voice was gruff and steady, no reflection of the chaos going on inside him. "Tell me your version." Walking up behind Dean Sam's smile darkened and he pressed up against Dean's back momentarily. _Heat_ , it was strangely familiar - the way their bodies just fit and Sam's eyes fluttered closed for a moment as that familiar smell wafted up toward him. Brow furrowing, he stared almost in disbelief as his own hand rose and almost settled on Dean's shoulder. It hovered there, just above the black cotton shirt and then Sam dropped his arm and stepped back slightly. It wasn't enough distance for Dean to be comfortable but Sam wasn't feeling all that generous. If he was going to suffer through this - he figured Dean might as well suffer a little as well.

Not for the first time since Sam's sudden appearance in his life, Dean had to fight off the spark of tears. He swallowed thickly and pulled the door open, walking out into the hall without allowing Sam to see how the touch had affected him. "David, the third possessed, was at his home. We'll go there. Nicholas was with him and David's little brother, Matthew, was the one to come and get me. Of course I'd already had some idea what was going on before but no one wanted to hear about it. Is there anything specific you need to know? Or see?" Dean didn't look at Sam as he led him through the church and outside.

"What did you see before the kids that tipped you off?" Sam scratched unconsciously at his healing tattoo. "Why kids do you think? It's unusual for demons to possess young people; they're generally not in positions of power, not terribly strong. It's strange don't you think?" It was easy for Sam to step into the familiar role of _Hunter_. He knew it well and there were no surprises there.

Leading him down the side walk toward the path that led to the Conrad house. "It doesn't seem to be following any sort of pattern at all. Except to possess people you would think of as innocent. Or..." Dean's steps faltered and he frowned, head tilted to the side. "I had confession with each three the day before the demon took them." Something sick twisted in Dean's body and for once he didn't even consider it belonging to Sam's presence beside him. It hit him like a punch in the gut and Dean had to bend in half, press his hands hard into his thighs and suck in a breath. "Me. It's me, isn't it? This thing is... he said, when in David, he said, _don't I know you_? Jesus, I should have seen it before." Shaking his head roughly, Dean tried to push himself up and compose himself.

Sam's hand hovered again, just above Dean's back then his fingers curled tight and clenched into a fist before dropping to his side. "Okay, just calm down and think Dean. Have you heard confession from anyone else since the last murder?" Sidestepping slightly Sam tried to catch Dean's eye and get him to focus. There was the hint - there was always a link, a connection; Demons were far from selfless and were always in it for some kind of reward. That reward in this case might just be retribution.

Slowly shaking his head, Dean let his mind flick through the last few days since Father Morton's death. "No. It's been too difficult, having to prepare the funeral and everything else going on. I've seen no one." And as far as Dean knew the demon had yet to pick another person to possess. "Those three must have been the most innocent." For a brief moment Dean's lips twitched in a slight smile. "Lillian's confession was hardly anything, David's was even less. The demon must have chosen them because he knew it would affect me more. Do you think-" Dean cut himself off and looked over at a patch of trees swaying in the wind. "Sam, could it be the same demon? Is this his way of making me suffer once more?"

Tilting his head to the side Sam smiled wryly and shrugged. "I don't know but there's our answer, right there. You hear my confession and we see what that stirs up." The irony of that statement wasn't at _all_ lost on Sam. He knew exactly what a confession might stir up but the sudden nervous look on Dean's face was well worth it. "Shall we?"

"But, what if the demon possesses you? What good would that do us?" Dean reasoned, not at all into the idea of listening to Sam's confession. He could imagine some of the things that would hurt most to hear and couldn't think of how that would change and hurt him.

Curling his fingers under the hem of his t-shirt Sam pulled it up to reveal the anti-possession charm he'd had tattooed over his heart. He watched Dean's cheeks colour for a few moments before dropping his shirt. "It's like a protection ward. I can't be possessed but it might lure the thing out somehow. What can a confession hurt right?" The expression on Dean's face told Sam that both men knew _exactly_ what it could hurt.

"Well." Dean had to force himself to look away because Sam's bare chest almost hurt to look at. Pretty soon Dean was going to be the one to need a confession if he continued this. "Fine. If you think it will help. I'm insisting we do things properly though." Dean gestured back to the church. He would need as much distance between them as possible and Sam seeing his expression at the man's confessions was out of the question.

"Properly? I don't have to be baptized or anything first do I? _Jesus._ " For once, Sam had the good grace to actually look embarrassed by his choice of words. He glanced over in the direction of Dean's hand. "What? You can't be serious." Sam had never been inside a confessional. For obvious reasons.

"We are trying to fool the demon into following you aren't we?" Dean actually found himself smiling slightly and crossed through the church to the confessional, tugging the door open. "In case you don't know, you should begin with Forgive me Father for I have sinned." At this Dean momentarily smiled even brighter, eyes lingering on Sam before he turned and stepped inside, closing the door behind him firmly.

Blowing out a breath Sam ran his hand back through his hair. He'd had to do a lot of strange things over the years but this pretty much topped them all. Pulling the door open he stepped inside the booth. There was a small chair that was facing the other side of the booth and Sam sat down - suddenly more than aware of his height. His knees banged hard into the booth and he swore, chuckled nervously then tried to get comfortable. "Do I say it now?" He whispered, not entirely sure why.

Lips still dancing around the smile, Dean nodded and smoothed his hands over the fabric on his thighs. "Yes, and go ahead and include how long it's been since your last confession." Dean had to cover a laugh at that, knowing Sam had never had one. "Gotta be official." Or maybe Dean was getting some odd sort of thrill in the weird and unexpected situation.

Rolling his eyes Sam rubbed his hand over his stubbled cheek. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." His brow furrowed, the words felt weighty and strange in his mouth - foreign. "And, uh, I've never been to confession." He scratched at the side of his nose and leaned forward to squint through the lattice woodwork to try and make out Dean's face. "Now what?"

Generally at this point Dean would quote a piece from scripture but he thought he would spare Sam. Plus he had a feeling they were going to be here for awhile. "Now you tell me your sins. Start from... the beginning I suppose. The ones that weigh hardest on your heart."

"My sins?" Sam cleared his throat and shifted his feet against the rough wood.

"Yes, that's the point of confession. You tell me what it is that you feel is... changing you. Burdening you." Swallowing thickly, Dean turned toward Sam, narrowing his eyes slightly to get a better image of him. "I shall listen to whatever it is you wish to share."

"So," Sam was possibly stalling, "things that _I_ think were wrong? Anything that makes me feel guilty?" The small wooden booth was starting to feel a little bit confining and Sam tugged at the neck of his t-shirt.

Slowly shaking his head, Dean smiled, oddly fond considering the circumstances. "The point is to unburden your soul. So if there are things you think are wrong, or there are things that simple add pressure to your being, it is whatever you feel most comfortable telling me." Dean had never needed to coach someone along so much but it seemed oddly fitting. Considering it was Sam.

"Okay, so like - I stole money from my Dad's wallet sometimes when we were on the road. Mostly for food but sometimes I just," Sam half smiled even as his brow furrowed. "Sometimes, I just wanted to go be a kid. You know? I wanted to buy candy, or play some video games or something like that." Clearing his throat again Sam looked back up noticing by Dean's silhouette that the Priest had turned to face him. "Things like that?" He shifted again on the small seat, denim covered knees rasping across the wooden barrier.

Chuckling softly, Dean nodded once more. "Well yeah, that would be a place to start. This is different from most cases because you're not really Catholic. Just... pretend I'm a sounding board. There has to be things eating you up inside. You can tell me those things and they'll go no further than this space. Perhaps it will ease something in you." He felt he was treading on uncertain ground but he was willing to try.

"If I tell you things, you can't do anything about it? Can't say anything?" Sam's fingers were digging into the meat of his thighs and he had to think deliberately to loosen his grip.

"My purpose is to listen and provide you guidance when needed." Dean whispered and tilted his head to the side, bracing himself for what he sensed might be to come.

Sam's mouth was dry. "When my Dad died... I didn't cry. I blamed him you know, for so many things. My Mom killing herself, losing you. He was there and... and... it was easy to blame him." It was so silent inside the booth that when Sam closed his eyes he could hear Dean breathing. He'd heard that same sound so long ago. "So - when he died I don't think he knew that I loved him." He raised his hand to cover his mouth for a few moments like somehow he could stop the words. It just didn't seem possible now that he'd started - there was something strangely liberating about knowing he could tell the truth.

Moving his hand slightly Sam could feel a muscle along his jaw twitching. "I-" Sam's breathed hitched. "I..." Looking down at his hands Sam felt like his heart was going to pound right out of his chest. "I've been trying to hurt you," he whispered.

The air caught in Dean's lungs and he stared at Sam through the little cracks, just making out his form in the darkness. "Why have you been trying to hurt me?" The issues Sam had with his father needed to be addressed, but that was going to be a long process, Dean would need time he likely didn't have to work on it. And this question was selfish, he shouldn't have asked, but it might send Sam down another line of confessions to help cleanse him in some way.

Sam's voice was quiet, "Because ten years ago I stood by that fucking car and waited and I kept saying over and over to my Dad that you would come because you promised. Because I loved you - and I don't think I love anymore because of you...because of that and now - you're...you're a Priest. Dean, you're a Priest - celibate - you don't love anymore, you don't want what I want," Sam cleared his throat to cover his words, "you don't want what I wanted all this time... before, not now." Eyes heavy with emotion Sam squeezed them shut again. "I want you to feel as horrible as I did then, standing there staring down the street like some stupid idiot." He ran out of air as he ran out of words and sucked in a lungful, then panted softly for a few moments.

Defenses bubbled up on Dean's tongue, the story of what had happened and how much it _killed_ him to know he'd hurt Sam. The reason he was a Priest now. But this wasn't Dean's time to confess to anything. And he was too crushed by the words to really form a full explanation any of it anyway. "And-" his voice caught and he coughed quietly, trying not to make it known how upset he was. "Since then. What have you done if you haven't loved anyone?" If Dean were stronger, bravery, he might have corrected Sam. Because he _did_ love. More than the man could possibly know.

Dean's voice almost startled Sam and his eyes snapped open. "Wh..What do you mean? What have I done?" Reaching one arm across his chest he rubbed at the opposite shoulder, tense.

"I mean," Dean wasn't exactly sure what he meant, what he wanted to know, and he paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "What things of the last ten years have affected you the most? Have you been with... people?" That last question slipped out against his will and Dean looked away.

Sam shifted back unconsciously trying to get further away from Dean. "Are you asking me that because you need to know or because you _want_ to know?"

Sliding fingers under his collar, Dean ran along the skin and sighed. "I suppose because I want to. And it would aid in your trying to hurt me." Apparently something about the confessional made Dean far too honest and he shook his head. "I apologize, this isn't supposed to be about me. What else would you like to share?"

Reaching out Sam pressed his hand against the woven wood screen. "You want to help me hurt you?" It was impossible to hide the confusion in his voice and he wasn't even trying anymore. There were so many reasons why he should just stand up and leave, get the _fuck_ out of there and just drive. "I had sex. Why not?" His voice hardened - he was starting to feel like he was on a roller coaster ride, "S'like a good hunt leaves me with all that adrenaline and - I guess I just get it out that way. Is that a _sin_ too?"

"By definition. Yes." Dean nodded and pushed his finger tips into his lips. "I'm not going to judge you. I'm hardly in a place for that." Of course it hurt to hear Sam had been with others, especially after everything that led him to this place, but he knew Sam was aware of that. "How did your dad die?" Dean changed topics drastically, needing to give his heart a break.

"I think it was a Demon," Sam's voice shook more than he liked and he curled his fingers over the screen and leaned forward. "I don't really know - he was alive and then he was gone, it was just _that_ fast. I can't..." Letting his head fall forward Sam rested his forehead against the screen beside his hand. "I don't want to miss him but I do because I never had anyone else except-" Wondering why he was still sitting there, still talking, still hurting - Sam rolled his head to the side and just listened to the almost imperceptible sound of Dean breathing.

Staring down at his hands Dean curled them together slowly. "Missing him isn't a bad thing Sam. No matter how things were in the end, whatever happened, John knew you loved him. Most father's never doubt their son's devotion, no matter the challenges. And he loved you in return." Dean hoped it sounded as genuine as he was trying to make it, because he believed it, in Sam's case at least.

"It's weak," Sam mumbled. "You miss people, you love them - it makes you weak - open to attack. It's a shit world out there, Dean. Shit. And, it's shit inside me... are we done? How do we know when we're done?" Sam was on the verge of cracking. "Someone's always gotta end up being the guy who has nothing left to lose - 'cause that guy? No one can beat him. There's nothing left to hurt him." Swearing softly under his breath Sam dragged his hand down the partition.

The words worked to make Dean feel only worse and he nodded, hating that he was allowing himself to get so caught up in this. Sam was still leaving when this was done, and Dean would have to deal with the aftermath. "We can be done. Usually I end with a prayer. I um, I'll just do that silently. You are free to go." Truthfully, Dean just needed a few moments to get his thoughts in order, get himself under control. He could hardly imagine facing Sam at this point.

Pushing up to his full height quickly Sam fumbled with the door handle for a few moments. "Fuck," he yanked at the door and it just rattled uselessly until he realized he had to push it. There were tears prickling hotly at his eyes and when he finally pushed the door open he bolted down the aisle. Air. He just wanted some air. That fucking box was so small and it was ridiculous to say all that shit - and what had it accomplished? His pulse was thudding at his temple and when he finally managed to get out the front door Sam was sucking in air like he'd been drowning. He _was_ drowning. Sam had been drowning since the day his Father had died and there was no one left to even give a shit. _This_ was why it was wrong to talk about things... the way he was left all pulled apart.

Dropping to the top step with a dull thud Sam sat down so hard his teeth clamped down on the side of his tongue. Glaring ahead down the road Sam yelled in no particular direction, "come and get me you fucker!" The demon bastard would be listening, or watching and it would know to come. Marked and broken - Sam would be like some sort of beacon and when the demon couldn't ride him it would find someone near Sam and they'd have the bastard. It could all be over soon. Sam needed it to be over.

There was really no point in Dean going after Sam. Nothing could be said or changed at this point and Dean couldn't recall feeling as hollow as he did when he finally stepped out of the confessional. Well, he could recall the time but it was often like a dream in his mind. This was very real and it only grew in Dean until the pressing in his chest felt so hard he could barely breathe. He stumbled through the sanctuary and pushed a back door open, barely making it to the bathroom before he lost the contents of his stomach. He was shocked he reacted this way, though he felt after so long he shouldn't be. There was too much in Dean's mind to properly analyze. Now he assumed they would just wait and eventually Dean would be alone again, the way things were probably meant to be.


	8. Chapter 8

"Excuse me Father?"

The soft voice of his secretary came from the doorway of his office and Dean didn't bother turning his gaze from the window. He could still taste bile on his tongue and was working a mint around slowly across his mouth, trying to calm the racing of his heart. So far it had only barely worked, despite an hour nearly passing since Sam left the confessional. "What can I help you with Melissa?"

"Oh, I'm sure it's not me you need to be helping." Melissa answered and there was something now about the way the words sounded that had Dean turning. Surprise must have been clearly evident on his face because the girl laughed, body swaying as she entered the room. " _Shit_ you make the funniest facial expressions. You know, that might have been why I chose you in the first place."

Dean's shoulders tensed and his fingers curled into fists, eyes fixing on Melissa's body. His heart went out for the girl, she didn't deserve this. "So you are the demon that possessed me before then? Shouldn't you be in Hell?"

Melissa scowled and kicked the trash bucket, sending it skittering across the room. "I _was_ you little ass. All because you and your stupid little fuck buddy got all high and mighty. Where is Sammy anyway? I heard rumours he's around and I'd just _love_ to catch up. You know I know his mom right?"

Swallowing thickly Dean suddenly felt very determined that Sam wouldn't hear a word this demon had to say. He just needed to figure out how to pin Melissa down and tape her mouth shut. He had to be stronger than her, even with the demon. "So what? You crawled out? And now you're going around and killing people in my town because you think I actually _care_?"

Confusion momentarily flickered across Melissa's face but it was gone just as fast. "Of course you care _Father_. That's the point isn't it? Why else bother with all this holy shit? It's a real waste too because I'm just gonna kill you and this will be all you had to show for yourself."

Fighting back the flash of fear, Dean kept his shoulders squared and smirked. "See, that's the thing right? You don't know me at all. You think I'm a Priest because I want to care for other people and serve a God that sits up in the heavens and let's his people suffer below? Why would I want to serve such a selfish person?"

The demon's confusion lasted longer this time and Dean took advantage of it to step forward and shove hard at the girl's waist line, hoping to dislodge her. Of course it didn't work, it took only seconds for the demon to react and Dean found himself being flung across the office, crashing hard into opposite wall. He sucked in a deep breath, pain flaring down his spine. "Then _why_ do you bother?" The demon snarled, stepping into Dean and kicking swiftly into his midsection. Dean could only gasp and curl in to avoid the pain.

There had always been that _Hunter's_ sense in Sam's mind. His dad had joked with him about it but it was there, strong and vivid, and for some reason Sam couldn't put his finger on he needed to go back into the Church. He'd been sitting outside and staring down the road, watching the occasional car or person move past. It was almost surreal - but then this feeling - like cool air breathing down the back of his neck had him on his feet and moving back into the dim light of the Church.

The crash coming from the direction of Dean's office had sent Sam lurching forward into a run. The words came easily now, Sam had heard John Winchester's voice rumble them out for years before he'd become so familiar with them himself it was like second nature. As soon as he was in the room Sam flung himself between Dean and the Demon. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas..." It was wrote, like muscle memory and the ritual just flooded out of Sam's mouth.

The words seemed to shake the demon and Dean pushed past the pain working through him and stumbled forward, grabbing at the girl and pulling her arms behind her back. She had attempted to fling herself at Sam but now Dean had the upper hand. "Oh hey Sammy," she snarled and pulled against Dean. "You're lookin'... well, pretty damn shitty honestly. Not getting enough fibre? I hear that's bad for you." The words were spoken over Sam, coming out gasped and rough.

Sam stared into the dark pools of Melissa's eyes. "Shut up, you-" Sam tore his eyes away from the demon's gaze and looked up - focusing on Dean's face. "Dean..." He had thought this would be so easy that the words would come just like that always had but everything was too real - too much like that first night. For the first time in years Sam found himself longing for that stalwart calm of his father -the deep rumble of his voice.

"Non..." Sam's expression softened as he stared at Dean, "non... non ultra audeas, serpens callidissime, decipere humanum genus, Dei Ecclesiam persequi, ac Dei electos excutere et cribrare sicut triticum." Sam's hands moved to Melissa's shoulders, holding her tight to try and stop the demon from causing more physical damage.

The demon tried to speak more, tried to come up some come back but Sam's words were rendering it useless. Melissa's body jerked more though, as if the demon inside her couldn't stand the possibility of being sent to hell once more. Her body collided with his chest and Dean sucked in a sharp breath, eyes watering with the pain he'd been attempting to ignore. His eyes locked on Sam's and he held tighter, trying to silently encourage the man through a look alone. He knew Sam was strong enough for this, could do this, and it was almost fate that they'd be in this together.

"Mnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini Nostri Jesu Christi, eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis." _Redemption_. The word repeated over and over in Sam's mind as the Latin tumbled from his lips. Eyes locked on Dean's Sam could see the effort it was taking for him to hold the girl still. There had to be _some_ redemption, some reason for them to be facing this again. _Together_.

Sam's brow furrowed as he watched the hurt reflecting across Dean's face. "D Eus coeli, Deus terra, Deus Angelorum, Deus Archangelorum, Deus Patriarcharum, Deus Prophetarum, Deus Apostolorum, Deus Martyrum, Deus Confessorum, Deus Virginum," He wondered if his voice sounded like his father's, that same deep rumble that had always comforted Sam when he was young. He'd give anything to hear that voice at his side again.

Melissa's final kick at Sam's leg was weak and he closed his eyes to murmur, "per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen."

"Amen." Dean couldn't help repeating and he twisted his grip to catch the girl. The demon had clearly done a number on her in the last few minutes and she was passed out, body limp. Turning, Dean pulled her up into his arms and carried her to the couch there, setting her gently down and stepping back. Straightening sent the pain shooting down Dean's body once more and he turned away, slowly walking to his desk and resting his hand against the edge. "Thank you," he whispered, unable to meet Sam's eyes now that the reality of things had set in. It was over and down with, nothing would change their fate.

Sam wasn't sure what he had expected to happen when the demon was finally gone. "You could have read that ritual yourself." Sam knew Dean was in pain, could see it in the tense line of his shoulders. "Are you alright? I can-" Sam blinked and glanced over at Melissa. "I think she'll be okay." The room was suddenly _too_ quiet now that the words and screaming had stopped.

"I. Yeah. I'm okay. And I'm sure Melissa will be." Dean glanced her way and pushed away from the desk, heading steady and slow for the door. "She should probably get some sleep. And for the record, I couldn't read the ritual myself. Not officially. Even if I knew exactly which to use." His words sounded slightly breathless and Dean thought he should just go into his room, check his body for wounds and lie down. He suddenly felt far too exhausted for his own good.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam took a step closer. Dean looked terrible and Sam had never been more torn. Reaching out he curled his fingers around Dean's upper arm. "Should we call someone, to help you and Melissa?" Even through Dean's shirt sleeve Sam could feel the warmth of the man.

Swallowing around the way pleasure that one simple touch sparked, Dean shook his head. "I'll be fine. I'll call Melissa's family and have them come pick her up. I just... I need to lie down for a little while. The demon got me right in the stomach." Dean's hand fluttered across his midsection for a moment before his eyes lifted to Sam. "Are you, are you going to be..." he couldn't bring himself to finish the question and he shook his head, looking away but not stepping out of Sam's touch.

"I'll check out that garage, just get my part and take off." Sam's voice was soft, quiet and he hesitated a moment more then released Dean's arm. "I won't..." Sam scratched at the back of his head. "Well, if you'll be okay..." He didn't want to watch Dean leave the room. Turning Sam crouched down by Melissa and stroked her hair back off her forehead. The way her eyes were closed, her cheeks flushed from exertion she looked like she had just simply fallen asleep on the couch. Sam listened to her breathing, steady and strong.

Dean thought he would always remember this last image of Sam, kneeling beside the girl and so carefully caressing her hair. It was a distinct contrast to how the rest of his time here had been and it made tears prick along Dean's eyes. This was some type of cruel punishment, having Sam in his grasp after so long and being so unprepared. Even if Sam wanted him to act on things, there was too much Dean was burying inside to fix things anyway.

He didn't stop walking - despite the pain - until he managed to push the back door of the church open and enter the small house built on the back of the lot. Usually Dean shared the living quarters with the other Priests; recently he'd been enjoying his solitude. Though, like most everything in his life, Dean didn't spend too much time thinking on it. He had this feeling though, that Sam was right. Dean was colder than the man, and considering how Sam had acted toward him, that was scary to admit.

Reaching behind his neck Dean undid the fastens on his collar and tugged it free, dropping it to the coffee table before working swiftly at the buttons on his shirt. He resolutely didn't think about not getting to say goodbye to Sam, or the way his arm still tingled from the touch. If his mind were to be inspected, Dean would probably be one of the worst Priests in the Catholic Church. At least he didn't harm anyone. Physically.

It hurt to shrug out of his shirt and, stepping in front of the mirror, Dean could clearly already see the bruises from the battle. Nothing was broken or ruptured though so Dean figured after some medicine and he'd be alright. He stood in the middle of the living room, staring at himself in the mirror and Dean _swore_ when he closed his eyes he could remember the way Sam's hands had looked running along his body. It started the flow of tears all over again.

-=-=-=-

Sam wasn't sure how long he stayed crouched by Melissa; it was long enough that his legs were aching. She would be fine, just like Dean had been fine all those years ago. Sam hoped that, like Dean, she would remember little of her ordeal.

All that was left was to get the part for his car and take off. There didn't seem to be much point in hanging around any longer than that. He would find somewhere along the road to work on his car - somewhere that was much less of an emotional minefield. He would leave. What he'd been so convinced he wanted to do - get away from Dean and his _new_ life.

Clenching his hands into fists Sam moved slowly out of the office. Ten years and then this epic collision - and Dean just walked away. No good-bye. A determined set to his jaw Sam changed direction and headed away from the front door and back through the main sanctuary to the back door. He'd noticed it the first day he arrived. Following the path outside took him to a small residence. The front door was slightly ajar and Sam pushed on it. "Dean?"

He would _make_ Dean say _good-bye_. Make Dean say what he should have said to Sam ten years ago - that single word that might have made it easier for Sam to leave, easier for him to believe that he'd meant _something_ to the man. Moving down the short hall Sam rounded and corner and sucked in a sharp breath.

Sam's eyes darted from the flesh of Dean's back to the discarded collar on the table then back. The bitter taste of rejection seeped into Sam's mouth, the knowledge that Dean had left him for religion, for all the things he'd claimed to hate about his own father.

The distance between them was easily covered in two of Sam's long strides and he grabbed a fist full of Dean's hair and yanked the heat of the man's body back against his own. "Why?" His voice was blood thick and rasped past his lips. "Tell me why you did this?" He wasn't even sure the question made sense. His fingers tightened in Dean's hair and he leaned forward. "Why couldn't you have been there?" Sam's lips grazed hot and dry against the back of Dean's ear and he felt his own knees threaten to give out.

"Jesus," Dean gasped in surprise, suddenly finding himself against Sam's body, a pleasant sort of pain trickling down his body from the grip in his hair. "I told you why I wasn't there." He forced himself to whisper and not think about Sam's lips on his skin, the way they were suddenly so close he could feel him along every inch of his body. "It- it wasn't my choice." Dean breathed slow and even, eyes locking on Sam's form reflected in the mirror.

Trembling slightly, angry that Dean could probably feel it Sam shifted and his free hand slid over Dean's ribs and around so he could press his palm flat over the man's chest. "You used me and you left me. You could have come back," he hissed. "Any time over all these years you could have found me - you didn't try once, did you?" Sam turned his nose into Dean's hair and inhaled that scent that was still so similar to the comfort of all those years ago.

"You don't know what I did or didn't do. You don't know anything at all." Dean bristled slightly in defense for himself, pushing at that emotion to outweigh the desire suddenly pressing through him. His eyes were locked on Sam's hand on his chest, he could feel the hard press and the way that combined with Sam's lips lingering on his skin was driving him crazy. Dean's knees felt weak and he struggled to keep himself up. "Stop telling me what I didn't do when you don't even _know_."

"You looked for me?" Sam's nails curled into Dean's chest. _God_ , each breath Sam panted out brought his chest so much closer to Dean’s back. He could feel Dean's ass pressed back against him and slid his hand down the man's body to grasp his belt. "So, tell me, Dean, how you looked for me. How did you try and find me." Sam didn't believe a word of it. Lifting his head he met Dean's watery gaze in the mirror. Sam was surprised at how cold his own gaze was and his expression faltered momentarily.

Something snapped in Dean, some light that had always been burning low somewhere in his chest for Sam felt as if it were suddenly extinguished. Like Sam had finally pushed things too far and Dean could no longer take it. He spun in Sam's grip, catching him off guard and shoving him hard across the room. His eyes narrowed on Sam, hurt and broken. "You wanna hear the whole truth Sam? You want me to tell you all about how I spent four months getting thrown into bathtubs full of ice cubes? Or how they forced me to watch gay porn and if I got even the _slightest_ bit turned on they electrocuted me? On top of the shock treatments that I had to go through four times a day? Or the hours spent in padded rooms in darkness until I thought I was going to _crazy_ from just hearing myself _breathe_?"

Dean's nostrils flared and he could feel the heat radiating from his body, fingers curling into fists at his side as he stepped toward Sam. "And _still_ all I could think about was you. Even when they finally sent me on my way and I had nowhere to go, no home, my father wouldn't even acknowledge my presence. You wanna hear about how I lived on the streets for six months, got my ass kicked over and over, nearly _died_ because I was looking for _you_." Hot tears burned down Dean's cheeks but he couldn't get himself to stop. The words continued to bubble from him, finally escaping after so many years of being buried. "All I could fucking think was how much I still _loved_ you after everything and I never wanted _anyone_ else. But I couldn't find you, no matter how much I looked, and I had no food, no home, nowhere to sleep but alley's and benches. I didn't even have _clothes_."

Sucking in a sharp breath, Dean finally looked away, wiping angrily at his cheeks. "So _yeah_ when I was given the option to enter the seminary program because _finally_ someone fucking cared, I took it. I didn't want anyone besides you, so I figured a life with forced celibacy was just fine. For all I know you hated me. And as it turns out, I wasn't wrong. So there Sam, that's the story of the last ten years." Dean wiped his gaze toward Sam and laughed, the noise sounding as cold and broken as he felt inside. "And I _still_ fucking love you, isn't that just _ironic_?"

Sam shoved Dean away from him, hands connecting hard against the man's shoulders. " _This_ is not my fault. You make it sound like I had something to do with it." Sam's blood was boiling, bubbling with anger. This mess was nothing to do with him. "I spent years watching for you, seeing you everywhere and seeing the look on my Father's face that meant he knew."

Sucking in a deep breath Sam moved quickly and slammed Dean back against the wall. Forearm across the man's throat he held him there, feeling the way Dean's chest was heaving. His eyes moved over Dean's face, tear-streaked and ruddy. "You're not even the same. You ...you became what your Father wanted you to become." Crushing his mouth against Dean's, thrusting his tongue forward as his arm pressed hard against the man's throat he groaned softly. He sank forward and pressed up as hard against Dean as he could - pinning him there against the wall.

Anger still shot through Dean in dizzying waves but he lost himself for a long moment in the kiss, pressing hard against Sam and sucking on his tongue like it was all he wanted. But Sam's words still burned through him and Dean was _tired_ of Sam treating him like this. His fingers curled into the man's shirt and he shoved him as hard as he could possible manage, pain from his previous injuries tightening in his chest. "Fuck you," he spat when his lips were free, eyes angry and hard on the man. "Stop thinking you even _know_ me. I'm not going to stand here and take this shit from you. If you want to be pissed at me, and blame me for something I couldn't even _help_ than you can just fucking _go_." He didn't want Sam to leave, he hadn't from the moment he saw him again not really, but he wasn't going to be blamed for all of Sam's issues. Like he'd really had a choice in the issue.

"No." Sam swallowed, standing a few steps away for a few moments before moving closer. "Don't you _dare_ push me away." Sam's voice was thick, his eyes dark and narrow. "And, don't tell me..." his voice wavered for just an instant, "don't you tell me I don't know you. I've done nothing but think about you. Does that make you feel better? _You_ made me promises you should never have made." Sam's expression softened for a moment and he squeezed his eyes shut until the blur of emotion cleared from them. "Stop making excuses, stop..." He knew he was stronger than Dean and moved swiftly back toward him. In a series of quick movement Sam had Dean's arm twisted behind his back and slammed him back against the wall again.

Yanking the man's arm up toward his shoulders Sam used his entire body to hold Dean there, pressing the man's chest hard against the wall. Panting, blood hissing in his ears he dragged his lips through Dean's hair and heat shot through him - rocking him like he was the one who'd been thrown against the wall. "Stop fighting me," he hissed. "This is all wrong, it shouldn't be like this. There were all those things we said," his voice cracked and he dropped his face to the warm flesh of Dean's neck. "You said you loved me..." it was a whisper, heart-felt and broken and Sam felt his cheeks flush with shame.

"I _do_ love you. But I'm not going to let you make me the bad guy." Dean gasped, the skin along his face scratching as it rubbed against the wall. "I had no _choice_ Sam. I would have been there. I was _going_ to be. I had my things, we packed together, I never changed my mind." He couldn't let this happen feeling like Sam still hated him, still wanted him to suffer. He felt confined and restricted to this spot and pain burned in his chest. Moving got him nowhere and on top of everything he was more hard than he'd been in years, to the point it was almost painful.

Tears blurred Sam's vision and he smiled slightly through the hurt that was welling up inside him. _Tears_. "But..." he swallowed, struggling to breath in the air he so desperately wanted. "You made yourself into the one thing - the only thing that would take you away from me forever. "

"You're making it like this. Don't you know I'd be back with you in a heartbeat? I'd give _everything_ up." Dean whispered the words, eyes squeezing shut tightly.

The grip Sam had on Dean's arm loosened and he stumbled backwards, eyes lifting to stare at the strained muscles across Dean's back. "Dean?" Sam wasn't even sure what he needed anymore, years of trying to erase the way he felt - move forward one painful step at a time and here he was. Dean was steps away and Sam felt like it was a thousand miles.

Stretching his arms out slowly Dean turned, almost afraid of what the expression on Sam's face might be. He was more than surprised to see tears there. The lines on his face seemed less hard, the tension in his shoulders seemed uncertain and Dean stepped forward. "The only reason I'm here is because you're the only one I want." He whispered the words, scared to reach out for Sam but taking another cautious step. "You're the only one I would give up everything for. You always have been." Dean's hand extended slowly, fingers tentatively brushing Sam's arm.

Sam didn't have any words left. His throat was so tight he could hardly breathe and Dean's touch sent heat sparking up his arm. Swaying slightly, Sam closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side - focusing on that slight touch. The first and only time Dean had touched him since he'd found him again. Frozen - Sam couldn't move, wouldn't, scared to break the fragile moment of calm.

It was one of those times Dean could feel the weight of everything around him, he knew whatever happened next would likely change them and determine what path they headed down next. "Sam," he whispered once more and took another step forward. For just a beat he waited, gauging how Sam might react before his arms extended and wrapped around the man, pulling him in tight to his chest and holding him there. It might be foolish, to hug him like this after everything, but Dean _wanted_ to feel some connection with the man.

A few moments passed before Sam realized what was happening; his body was rigid, stiff and then it was like something broke inside him. Each part of him curled forward, relaxed and sank down into the embrace. The stubble on his cheek rasped against Dean's and he let out a strange sound, half moan, half-sigh and buried his face in the gentle slope of Dean's neck.

Dean would have been just fine holding Sam against him for the rest of the day. The way his body sent of waves of heat worked through his bare chest, sank down into him and seemed to melt all the coldness built up over the last ten years. They didn't really move, simply stood in the middle of the room with their arms wrapped tight around each other. Every breath Dean inhaled pulled in Sam's scent and he thought, this time; he could actually pinpoint the memories from ten years ago and a week of pure happiness.

The air shuddered out of Sam's lungs and his arms tightened around Dean's waist. "W..We can't..." Like he'd never been away from Dean Sam's lips latched on to the man's neck, sucking, licking and kissing frantically. What if there was no second chance again? Sam could feel all those carefully constructed walls crumbling. "I need to go back..." _somewhere_. He couldn't stay at the Church - it was all wrong and felt so strange and confining. "Melissa. You need to call," he had to suck in a breath to keep talking and nuzzled against Dean's warmth, "call her parents then come to me?"

Sam pulled back slightly, staring into Dean's eyes for a few moments and ducked down to brush his lips across the other man's. "Please, don't..." Sam couldn't even ask for confirmation, he'd come all this way and couldn't ask for Dean to promise.

"It's okay," Dean murmured and brought their lips together for another gentle kiss. "I'll see you soon." There was a lot to do, Dean knew this, but he was also never more certain of anything in his life. And this time there would be no one to stop him.

Stepping back, Sam did the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life - and turned to leave the room. He'd go back to the Motel and wait. One more time he would wait for Dean. Wiping unconsciously at the tears on his cheeks he walked toward the front door, turned the handle and started the long walk back to the Motel.

-=-=-=-

For a good half hour Dean simply sat in his room. He didn't have much in the way of possessions but what he did have was money. As a Priest his room and board was covered as part of his salary, and he didn't have a car so he was simply given the allowance extended for it. Which meant over the past six years he'd hardly spent any money at all, didn't have a reason too, and now he and Sam had a large chunk of change. Because already his mind was grouping him and Sam together.

With that thought Dean kicked into gear, gathering up the few items he had in his room. At this moment he owned only two pairs of jeans and three t-shirts that he didn't wear to bed. It was odd, stepping into the denim, and Dean stared at himself in the mirror. It had been so long since he wore clothes that weren't black; Dean had almost forgotten the feel. His fingers brushed along the jeans slowly and a small smile pulled at his lips. He could get used to it.

A small safe was buried in the bottom of his closet and Dean removed all the books slowly, setting aside a few of his favourite volumes. It hadn't seemed foolish for Dean before to simply cash his checks and store the money, he'd never wanted to bother with a bank and this wasn't the type of town with people who broke into places. Plus this way he could give money for tithes without needing to go out and get cash each week.

Of course now he had a large pile of cash and only a backpack to store it in. Dean could almost picture the look that would be on Sam's face when he turned up with the bag. That was going to be amusing.

Once he'd gathered up the few personal belongings he had, his extra clothing and the books, Dean hooked the bag over his shoulder and headed out to the main church. There was the idea of leaving the church without any Priests overseeing it and Dean felt the wave of guilt for a moment but he would be cheating out the townsfolk if he stayed here. Dean's heart had never been into his profession the way it should have been. This was just a place he found himself for awhile and though he believed in something, he couldn't put a name to it.

Dean moved to his office to check on Melissa. She was still passed out on the couch and Dean smiled softly before walking to his desk and grabbing the phone, flipping through the directory to locate her family's number. It was easy to explain the girl had simply felt a little ill and wanted to lie down, that he needed to step out for a bit but they could find her on the couch in the back office.

Then there wasn't much left for Dean but to simply go. He took his time slowly walking through the church, ensuring the collection box was locked up - just in case - and things were in a proper order for his once fellow Priests when they returned. Some part of Dean would miss this place, would miss the people who always greeted him with warm smiles, but a different part, much larger and consuming, was jumping at the opportunity to have a life with Sam. It was hard; spending ten years pretending like he wasn't this man that loved another, pretending like his connection with God was the most important thing. And even though he was certain his relationship with Sam was going to take time to make completely right, he was ready devote some genuine energy and time into the task.

By the time he left, two hours had passed since Sam had gone back to his motel. Dean felt it had given them enough time to sort their thoughts out, get themselves in a better place for what was to come. He walked slowly through the town toward the motel, keeping his head down to stop anyone who passed by from immediately recognizing him. Without his familiar clothing he was sure he looked completely different.

The bag on his shoulder was digging into his muscles, heavy and pressing, and Dean was more than a little relieved when the motel finally came into view. Even more so when his eyes landed on the Impala in the lot. It would have hurt more than he imagined, if Sam had left without him, but the twisted fate of it would have oddly made sense.

Now he crossed to the motel door nearest the car, heart picking up speed in his chest. There was _so much_ between them, things that likely needed to be said, problems that needed to be addressed, but all Dean could think about was kissing Sam again, touching him, _feeling_. Which was why the moment the door opened after he'd knocked, Dean was stepping forward and tugging on Sam's shirt collar, dragging him in to crash their lips together as hard as he could.

Sam stumbled back a couple of steps as he took the brunt of Dean's weight. A sound not unlike a moan sounded low and quiet in his chest and his hand were on Dean - anywhere - slamming the man back against the door Sam closed it then fumbled around behind Dean to lock it. Tearing his lips away from Dean's and dragging them across his cheek Sam whispered, "I thought you wouldn't come." He'd been sitting there in the room for an hour, wondering, waiting - thinking how he couldn't live through it a second time and wanting beyond want to _believe_ that Dean would be there.

Arching up into Sam's body, Dean half slid down the wall, only held up by Sam pressing into him. "I. Of course I came." He murmured, wishing a moment later that he hadn't said it like that because there probably was nothing _of course_ about it. "Sam," he gasped as his head fell back, granting Sam more room to explore. It was impossible to resist shifting up into him, spreading his hands along Sam's sides and pushing down to curl around fabric and tug up, wanting flesh and heat.

Sam's hand moved to the front of Dean's neck, his lips moving along the man's jaw line. "Can't leave me again... I wouldn't..." He wouldn't make it - there was no going back from this. Sam couldn't feel this, his lips on the rough stubble of Dean's jaw, the heat between their bodies - he couldn’t feel this again and have it taken away. Struggling to try and find the words Sam simply pulled back and stared, hands moving up along Dean's sides to curl over his shoulders then around his neck. Pushing Dean hard back against the door again Sam's lips trembled as his mouth opened slightly - but there wasn't enough left in him to say anything other than, "Dean..."

It was impossible to say who pulled off whose clothing. Everything was a tangle of limbs and cloth and Dean thought he heard the buttons on his shirt tear before the bare skin of his chest was finally colliding with Sam's. Their lips met again, rocking hard together and sliding. Dean groaned low in his throat, felling all the world like he was just eighteen again and there could never be enough Sam. He inhaled sharply through his nose, pulling back to gasp. "Need you. So bad Sam," Dean moaned and slid his hands down Sam's chest, fumbling with the waist line of the man's jeans, unable to pull at the buttons no matter how hard he tried.

Growling softly Sam moved them closer to the bed, shoving Dean's hands away roughly and undoing his own jeans so he could slide them off his slender hips. His cock was aching so hard he could hardly stand to press up against Dean's hips while he worked on the man's jeans. As he pushed them down Sam hooked his thumbs over the man's boxers and slid all the material down off his body.

Slipping his arms under Dean's he pulled him back against his chest - taking his weight so Dean could step out of his jeans Sam almost lifted him off the floor. Hands moving over the muscles and warmth of Dean's back - Sam shuddered. It was so different but so like everything he remembered. The way Dean's lips moved over his body in the desperate way, sliding, biting, and licking - all those sensations felt so much like the Dean he remembered.

Something bumped against Dean's finger and he stepped back enough to get a good look at the man. Sam's chest had definitely shaped out over the years, muscles rippling along his abs, and Dean's eyes widened for a moment at the nipple ring there. He'd never thought it would be his _thing_ but the moment he laid eyes on it he couldn't resist bending enough to suck it between his lips, tugging it slightly. Dean pulled back after several observational licks of the area, scanning Sam's marked skin, eyes dipping down long enough to catch swollen flesh and inhale sharply. "You're fucking hot," Dean murmured, sounding as surprised as he felt about the fact he found Sam's tattoos and piercing appealing. "I. Can we? Will you?" Dean couldn't finish his thoughts, hands in constant movement over Sam's skin.

Sam's eyes widened at Dean's words. "You're...will I what?" he laughed softly, some of the tension and fear finally easing out of his body, "too far away.” Reaching out Sam curled his fingers around the back of Dean's neck and tugged him forward. "You're not supposed to be swearing," Sam's voice was soft, husky and he dragged Dean's closer again to feel the heat of his flesh. Heart thundering in his chest Sam couldn't stop sliding his work-rough palms over the silky smooth skin of Dean's body.

Chuckling for a moment, Dean shook his head, neck extending as Sam's hands slid along it for a moment. "Got ten years of not swearing to make up for." He grinned and pushed forward, lips crashing hard into Sam's once more. He hadn't even realized how much he had missed kissing, missed the taste of Sam until this moment here. "Want you to fuck me." Dean whispered into the few inches between their lips and curled his fingers around Sam's hipbone, holding on tight in case his knees decided to finally give out like he thought they would. Just saying the words reminded him of the only ever time he'd been with someone, with Sam, so many years ago.

Sam's eyes widened, and then narrowed as the entire situation started to sink in. Nodding slowly, he let his eyes follow the flush that was creeping up Dean's chest and neck. Hands flat against Dean's ribs, Sam slid them around the man's body and cupped his ass, lifting him slightly and stepping back until his legs bumped against the bed. Sitting, he slid back slight and tugged Dean forward to pull him down onto his lap. Heat and anticipation swirled around his spine sending shivers throughout his body. Everywhere Dean's flesh touched his Sam could feel the tingling of desire. His hands were in motion constantly, re-learning the changed landscape of Dean's body.

It was very difficult for Dean to remain patient, to not just throw himself on Sam and insist he take him _now_. Dean swallowed the waves of desire coursing through him and shifted on Sam's lap, hands sliding down the panes of the man's neck. "This," Dean gasped and pulled back enough to blink at Sam, lips feeling slick and swollen. "This is forever? Now? You'll take me with you?" Chances were, Dean would do this even if the man said no because he wanted this more than anything. He just wanted everything else as well. Dean's hands slid down Sam's chest, working over the flesh in small circles.

"I'm never," Sam leaned down to suck gently on Dean's bottom lip, "letting you go again. Never." His vision blurred slightly, maybe tears - he didn't care. Mouthing his way across his _lover's_ shoulder he moaned quietly and slid his hands under Dean's ass. Lifting and pulling he got Dean as close as possible, their cocks sliding together between their bodies. The intensity of it sucked all the air out of Sam's body, his lungs ached and he captured Dean's mouth again, too hard, too rough but _fuck_ he needed it. Fear was still seeping out of his body and each sweep of Dean's tongue softened it, pushed it further away. Sam _wanted_ Dean like he'd never wanted anyone.

Tangling his hands in Sam's hair, Dean kissed the man so hard he felt he was trying to suck the life from him, rocking hard into his body so their cocks slid together constantly. A harsh moan tore through Dean's body and he ripped his lips free, sucking in a sharp breath. "Never letting you go." He murmured, noses bumping together as their bodies continued to rock together. Dean kept his hands in Sam's hair, using it as an anchor as his head fell back, hips rolling continuously forward out of his control. " _Sam_ ," Dean moaned, nails sliding down Sam's scalp.

Whipping his body to the side Sam slammed Dean down on the bed and rolled on top of him. Heat hissed through his veins as he finally managed to spread his body out over Dean's. The heat rising off the man's skin was completely intoxicating and Sam moved Dean's hair back from his face, combing his fingers through the soft strands. "I can't... it's been a while since-" Sam couldn't resist sucking Dean's bottom lip into his mouth for a few moments then letting it go with a small moan. "It's been a long time since I cared..." Sam swallowed, a huge lump of emotion battling its way up his throat.

"It's good," Dean insisted, pulling Sam in for another deep kiss. He let the man feel everything that was coursing through him in the hard brush of their lips, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders to hold him there. "You were my last. My only." He whispered as their lips broke, eyes fluttering open to peer up at Sam. "So it's been a long time in general for me. But I want it. Everything." His hips rolled up to prove his point and Dean moaned softly, breathing deeply in attempt to control the way his heart raced.

"You're staying." Sam's eyes darkened, "with me?" It had taken the entire time that Dean was gone for him to work up to asking that question.

Smiling softly Dean nodded. "Yeah, for as long as you'll have me. I'm yours." Dean wanted to ask what they would do, if he wanted to keep hunting or they could use the money to settle down somewhere, but he'd wait to get into that. "I love you." He whispered, eyes fixed up on Sam.

Closing his eyes, Sam let the words sink in - one at a time. They were words he'd never expected to hear again in his life and words he'd often thought he'd never hear again from the one person who truly mattered. When he finally opened his eyes they were filled with tears again and Dean's green irises were blurry. Rubbing roughly at his face Sam rolled off Dean and pushed up off the bed to head over to his duffel bag. Once he had retrieved some lube and a condom he reached out and pulled the curtains all the way closed. Turning, he finally managed to turn his lips into a slight smile. "Can't have anyone thinking I've kidnapped you if they see you in here."

Pacing slowly back to the bed Sam's smile grew. "Big nasty dude with tattoos taking away their Priest." He watched Dean's eyes move down his body. "We look different now, ten years..." It was kind of enormous, that amount of time - so much time passing.

"I'm twenty eight," Dean grinned, almost as if he couldn't believe it himself. He stared up at Sam before crawling backward on his elbows and feet, situating himself in the middle of the bed. "You look different too. So, so very different." Dean stared at him, eyes drifting along every inch of his shaped body. "So. You just going to stand there?" He grinned slowly, spreading his legs in a clear invitation for the man. "I've probably got no patience at all for this type of thing, I just want you in me _now_." Dean drifted his hand down his chest, hand just barely curling around the base of his cock.

Kneeling on the edge of the bed Sam tilted his head to the side admiring the lines of Dean's body. "Thought you weren't supposed to do that..." he let himself fall forward to walk up the bed on his knees until he was settled between his lover's legs. Dropping the condom off to the side Sam flipped the cap on the lube and slicked up his fingers. He fell forward again, fitting his body between Dean's strong thighs and chasing his lips for a few moments before catching them.

"I'm not a Priest anymore. Unless you're really into the idea of fucking a Priest. I could see you being kinky like that." Dean smirked up at him, body twisting to situation on the bed beneath Sam. Of course Dean hadn't officially quit but in his mind it was done and that's kind of where it mattered for the whole religion based profession. "Did it do something for you? I was under the impression..." Dean trailed off, too nervous about upsetting the moment by pushing it.

" _You_ do something for me." The words were thick and heavy and Sam sank down quickly to press the heat of his stiff shaft against Dean's. "I want you, was always you," he murmured against Dean's lips before thrusting his tongue forward. The kiss was deep, hard, and maybe too rough but Sam was through talking. Dean's cock was hard, pressing against Sam's belly with a heat that was unmistakable. Lust was riding them both hard; now wasn't the time for slow and gentle. "I'm gonna make you mine again." Sam's voice was a low growl and rumbled up out of his chest against Dean's mouth. Shifting to the side slightly, he stretched a long arm down and grazed his rough palm over Dean's shaft, across the silky smooth skin of his balls and then rubbed the slick lube against Dean's puckered flesh.

Dean's heart seemed to slam in his chest and he sucked in a quick breath at the touch, hips pushing down toward it almost on instinct. He could still remember how it had felt the first time, how nervous and thrilled he'd been at the very idea of becoming Sam's. Now the idea of Sam making his, _claiming_ him in such a way, was enough to make him slightly dizzy with pleasure. "Sam," Dean gasped as the tip of Sam's finger pushed forward, sliding forward all the way in. There was only a vaguely familiar discomfort but it was odd pleasant if a bit unusual. Dean dragged his teeth along his lower lip and rocked his body down against Sam's finger, watching the way it seemed to make the man's eyes darken even further.

"Don't wanna wait," Sam's voice came out breathy and rough all at the same time. His heart kicked into overdrive at the feel of Dean's heat surrounding his finger. Claiming Dean's mouth bruisingly, Sam's tongue plunged forward again as he slid a second finger tip inside his lover He remembered the feel of the silky heat; the way Dean's body was writhing under him - flesh alive with the twisting of his body. Dean loved being touched and Sam's heart clenched momentarily at the thought of the man spending so many years without it. Biting hard on Dean's bottom lip, Sam shifted again so he could press their bodies together.

Like it had been before Dean found himself constantly writhing and moving beneath Sam. He didn't want to wait either, wanted Sam in him _now_. "More," Dean gasped, body arching up into Sam's. "Want you." He didn't care if it was going to hurt, or that they were rushing head long into things, he just needed to _feel_. Too long without Sam, without _anyone_ at all, and Dean was nearly drunk with the amount of pleasure shooting through him. "God Sam, please," he begged quietly, pushing up to catch the man's lips in another heated kiss.

Everything around Sam was kind of a blur. Dean's flesh, the ache in his own cock, the heat - _Oh God_ \- the heat of Dean's body as his muscle clenched around his fingers. He worked Dean's ass open, stretching his fingers apart and probing deeper with each twist of his lover's spine beneath him. "I wanted this," he murmured as he finally managed to break off the kiss and bite his way down Dean's neck, "so long." He thrust three fingers forward _hard_ twisting his wrist roughly and felt the pads of his fingers graze over the small bundle of nerves deep inside his lover.

Nearly lurching off the bed Dean felt everything in him was responding triple time to the way Sam moved, the press of his fingers. Pleasure shot up his spine in waves that rippled through his body. "You," he gasped, hardly able to breathe when Sam's fingers rubbed against his prostate once more. Dean thought he saw the briefest flash of amusement in Sam's eyes and his lips flickered in a momentary smile. He knew he was begging, almost out of control, and he really didn't care at this point. He never wanted anything more than Sam, now.

Watching the pleasure on Dean's face made Sam's cock so hard it was almost painful. Again and again with a simple brush of his fingers he could watch a wave of pleasure roll through Dean's body. His chest would arch up off the bed, neck stretching back long and lean and Sam could trace the pleasure - watch as it settled in Dean's abs. Their hips rocked together slowly as Sam kept Dean pinned there to the bed. _Mine_ was all he thought each time he caught a flash of green eyes.

It was enough. Sam pushed up from Dean to sit back on his heels - eyes soaking in the still twitching form of his lover. " _God_ , you're still so... perfect." It was almost a whisper and Sam snatched the condom packet off the bed and ripped it open with his teeth so he could roll it quickly down his cock. Slick fingers moved over the condom and Sam crawled up the bed to sit back against the headboard. "I want you," he dropped his gaze as his finger brushed over Dean's cheek, "come here." He grabbed Dean's hand and tugged hard pulling him up until he could straddle Sam's lap. His body was caught in shudder so strong that he closed his eyes _just_ at the sensation of Dean's weight.

Swallowing thickly around the nerves that now welled up in him - Sam seemed much bigger than he remembered, thicker and fuller but Dean wasn't sure - Dean leaned against Sam's chest to steady himself. His eyes clenched shut as he bent back and beneath him to grip Sam's cock around the base, holding him in place as he lined himself up. The first initial inch stretched him wide, split his body in a way that had Dean's back curving and his chest vibrating with a groan. Dean's thighs began to quiver under the pressure of holding himself up and not simply sinking down onto Sam's body. He could feel Sam's hands on his hips, helping to guide him, and Dean willed himself to relax, open up to Sam and take more of him in. Panting so hard he couldn't even form his lover's name, Dean continued a tortuously slow slide down until he could feel the man buried deep within him.

Sam's hands moved over Dean's back, soothing and scraping his nails gently over the flesh. He held his breath until his lungs ached so badly he suddenly just sucked in air. Heat was all he felt. The heat of Dean's chest pressed against his, the heat of his lover's neck as he kissed Dean through the worst of the pain and then _fuck_ the heat of being inside dean. Everything in Sam's body was magnified a thousand times - his heart thundered, this blood raced and his cock was aching and twitching; it took every ounce of control Sam had to stay still and give Dean the time he needed to adjust.

Settling his hands back over Dean's hips Sam moaned and pulled his hips back as his mouth fell open to let out a low moan. His head fell back against the wall as his thrust forward again, slowly, _so_ slowly it was like torture - but the most amazing fucking kind of torture there was. "Dean..."

At first Dean could only hold on, nails digging into Sam's shoulders as his lover worked slow thrusts up into him. Than the slow pace began to crush at his nerves and Dean hissed, pushing up with quivering thighs and dropping down as hard as he could manage from his position. One hand hooked through Sam's hair, nails curving into his scalp and tugging back as Dean rode Sam's cock harder and faster. The momentarily space of pulling up followed by the _oh so full_ feeling when slamming down was driving Dean more crazy than he thought possible. He didn't even know his body could move the way it did, rocking with each thrust, working Sam with a twist of his hips and a clench of his muscles. He moaned his lover's name low in his throat, dipping down to capture Sam's lips in a rough kiss that intensified as he caught a steady pace with the rock of his hips.

Sam felt like everything was falling away around them, disappearing until it was only _Sam and Dean_. His heart was stuttering out a message that felt entirely too much like _the way it should have always been_ and Sam's long arms wrapped tight around Dean's shoulders. He held his lover, sliding Dean's body up and down the heat of cock - crushing their lips together frantically. "Dean, _fuck_ ," he murmured as his nails dug into the flesh of the man's shoulder blades. There was so much sensation in his body, over his skin he could feel his control slipping so quickly.

Dean's body rocked forward into Sam's; frantic and desperate then gentle and so loving it made Sam's chest clench. All he could do was hang on, palms hand over hand trying to grab for hold on Dean's sweat-slick back.

Every breath he sucked in was full of Sam's scent and Dean was drunk on it, eyes feeling heavy as he forced them open to stare at his lover. He could feel Sam connected with him, almost along every inch of his body, and Dean couldn't stop moving, needed to increase his speed because he was desperate for _more_. "Sam," Dean gasped and dug his fingers into the back of Sam's neck as he worked for the best angle. The head of Sam's cock slammed into his prostate and Dean held that angle, rocked into it and gasped at the haze of pleasure shooting through him. Dean's spine curved back, bending as he moved steadily. "So close." Dean moaned, clenching around Sam buried deep in him.

The words slammed into Sam's body and he grabbed his lover's shoulders roughly, lifting him and then thrusting up as he pulled Dean's down again. The heat of Dean's body wrapped around him time and again, drawing him in then pulling away so reluctantly. Palm melting into the small of Dean's back, holding him, _God_ , the way his lover's spine bowed back - perfect and long Sam could feel his heart almost stutter to a stop.

Heat and desire slammed together in Sam's belly, twisting and twining, sending shock-waves out along his flesh. He thrust up, hard and fast, anchoring Dean there and slamming into his ass. The release of his orgasm took Sam's breath away; years of frustration blew out of his body as his cock ached almost painfully then pulsed and twitched as he came. The jolts of pleasure had Sam slamming his head back against the headboard even as he slipped his hand between them to curl his fingers around Dean's cock.

Dean almost wasn't aware of the beginning of his orgasm, mind already spinning out of control as it was. Sam's name fell from his lips in a quick moan, repeated over and over and he pulsed between them, shoulders shuddering and hunching together. Dean's eyes fluttered slightly and he sucked in another breath as his body fell hard against Sam's. His arms looped around the man, squeezing softly. "Love you," he whispered, wanting, needing Sam to hear it and believe it.

"If you ever leave me again," Sam's hips jolted as the last of his released worked its way slowly through his body, "I'll die." It wasn't a threat, just a fact. Sam's theory was that you could lose everything _once_ and survive it. _Once._ He had this feeling deep inside him, like a certainly, that if he lost Dean again - lost _this_ he would just cease to exist.

Tightening his arms around his lover Sam buried his face in Dean's neck, sucking and licking at the slightly salty skin. Trembling slightly he marvelled at how Dean's gentle touch soothed his soul, calmed him. "I love you," Sam whispered. He wasn't sure if Dean could even hear it - but the words were there.

A small, pleased smile tugged at Dean's lips and he shifted up, groaning as Sam fell from him and settling in against his side. "I'm not going anywhere." Dean pressed his lips into Sam's neck, eyes closing as he breathed in the familiar scent. His arm wrapped around Sam's middle and for now, Dean was content to simply rest in this place with his lover.


	9. Chapter 9

When they woke from a too brief nap it was quickly decided that leaving town was really the best option. They couldn't even risk going out in public together while still in Iva Grove because anyone would recognize Dean upon closer inspection. So they packed up their things and loaded up Sam's car, Dean sinking low in the seat as they made a stop at the garage for Sam to get the part needed for his car. He was a little concerned that something awkward might settle over them, the years catching up and weighing down on them. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence when Sam slid back in the car.

There were definitely things they needed to talk about, plans to make that basically included their entire future, but it wasn't something for the car. Dean wanted to be able to take Sam's hand and look into his eyes, make sure they were on the same page because there were a thousand things to be said. So they drove in that warm silence, Dean reaching out to link his fingers through Sam's and squeeze softly. He used the time to go over his thoughts, sort through what he needed Sam to know and what he needed to know from Sam.

By the time they arrived in a new town, a new motel, it was late evening and Dean was feeling tired once more. That all went away of course when they climbed out into the cool of the evening and shook the long drive from their bodies. Dean waited for Sam to return with a room key before trailing in after him, dropping his bag on a chair and kicking his shoes off. A heavy sigh fell from his lips as he fell back on the mattress, smiling when it bounced him back slightly.

"So. We should probably talk about things huh?" Dean suggested, crooking an arm under his head and watching Sam move.

Sam threw his duffel against the wall and pulled a six pack of beer out of the paper bag it was in. Sam wasn't sure he was going to make it through a _talk_ without a bit of alcohol. Opening a beer he hesitated then held it up toward Dean. "Do ex-Priests drink?"

Rolling his eyes slightly Dean shrugged and pushed up until he was sitting, taking the beer. It had been a long time since he drank but it seemed appropriate now. "I don't want to hunt." Dean blurted out, figuring that was the biggest thing he should lay on the line from the get go.

"I... what-" sucking in a breath Sam held up a hand for Dean to give him a moment, grabbed a beer for himself and flipped the top open. Pacing over to the side of the bed he looked around then grabbed the desk chair, flipped it around and straddled it so he was sitting at the bottom of the bed facing Dean. "Okay, come again?" Sam took a few gulps of beer.

Dean would much rather have Sam with him on the bed but he figured he wouldn't do so good at keeping his hands to himself anyway. "I'd rather not hunt. I won't be any good at it, I would just slow you down, and I'm not sure I could handle a life on the road." He shrugged and stared down at his beer. "I'm not going to force you to stop or anything, so maybe we'll have to reach a compromise or something?"

"An ex-Priest and an ex-hunter walk into a bar..." Sam scoffed. Looking down at his beer for a few moments he tried to imagine _not_ being a hunter. "Dean," he said softly, "I don't know how to do anything else."

"Yeah, me either." They sat in silence for a moment before Dean sighed and rolled over, setting his beer on the nightstand before crossing the room for his back pack. Without a word he zipped open the back, pulled the clothes and books free, setting them to side before tipping the bag over and spilling the cash over the bedspread. "But, I have this." His eyes lingered over the money before he moved to claim the beer once more.

Sam blinked a few times then scratched at his healing tattoo. "Did you rob a bank?" Turning his head he stared up at Dean. It was a fair amount of money, certainly more than Sam had ever seen at one time.

Chuckling softly Dean shook his head and took a long pull from his beer. "No. I just never spent my salary. No reason to. So it's enough to get us going on something. You said once that maybe you'd like to work at an animal shelter, you could do that." Dean smiled softly down at his hands and shrugged. "I think I'd like to just get a filler job. One of those you have where your work stays there when you go home. Nothing too fancy. I. Well, honestly I'm more interested in spending as much time with you as possible but that's probably not going to work that way." He shrugged and scratched under his jaw.

Smiling sadly, Sam turned his head back to look down at his beer. He flipped the small tab on the top of the can back and forth until it popped off in his hand. "I wanna spend time with you," Sam murmured softly, "I got ten years to catch up on." Rubbing at the back of his neck for a few moments he took another swig of beer. "It's just - I mean I think you'd be great at anything you tried. I do." He glanced up quickly at his lover and couldn't help flashing a small smile. "I just don't know if - I mean, okay, I didn't even finish high school. No one will hire me." Sam shrugged. "I could hunt and come home to you when I could?" It sounded horrible as soon as he said it - the idea of leaving Dean each time he went away. And, what if something happened? Things were different now.

Frowning slightly Dean squeezed his fingers along the beer can and shrugged. "Well, if that's what you want to do. I mean, we could do something about the GED thing. The test is pretty easy, I had to do it. So you could try." His eyes lifted toward Sam then he looked away. "But, whatever you think is best. I guess I'll take what I can get." His lips flickered in a smile before he brought his beer up again.

Sighing, Sam frowned. "Come and sit back down." He waited until Dean moved some of the money out of the way and dropped back down to the end of the bed. "I know I'm not so good at this talking stuff, but that didn't sound very convincing. You don't want me to hunt." Leaning down to put his beer on the floor Sam draped his arms over the back of the chair so he could rest them on Dean's shoulders. His fingers grazed the back of his lover's neck gently. "Tell me the truth. What do you want. If you could have anything."

The beer can twisted between Dean's fingers as he thought over Sam's question. "Of course I don't want you to hunt Sam. Anything could happen to you out there and I, I'd just... I'd _never_ know. That's terrifying." Dean looked up at the man and smiled softly, shoulders lifting in a slight roll. "If I could have anything it would be you and me settling down somewhere. Getting a place, maybe a dog or a cat or something, working whatever jobs then coming home to spend the night curled together on the couch watching movies and just _being_ together. I know, it's stupid and cheesy and probably not at all appealing, but," Dean finished with a shrug, eyes dropping to the floor.

"I hate cats." Sam pressed his lips together, a thin pale line as he thought. Not hunting. Of course, he'd realized he couldn't hunt his whole life but in Sam's mind that had always meant fifty years old or something. He'd figured maybe he might even get injured at some point and be unable to get around as well. Taking a deep breath Sam slid his hands up the cup around the sides of Dean's neck. "I'm not making promises, but if it's what you want we can try."

Staring into Dean's eyes Sam smiled slightly. "I don't want to go back to school, or do the GED thing but I will try and get a job at a shelter or something." He shrugged. "I could work at a garage, I can fix cars and stuff." Relief was almost immediately evident on Dean's face and in his shoulders as they relaxed.

"I want you to be happy though." Dean said softly, eyes searching across Sam's face. "Will you be happy living somewhere?"

Dropping his eyes for just a moment Sam really thought about it. It had been years since he was truly happy. It wasn't as though he was wandering through life ready to off himself at any moment or anything like that - but there were certainly things that should have pleased him and hadn't. Sam's existence had been flat and almost one-dimensional since he'd lost Dean the first time.. "To be honest, Dean? I have no idea. But," his fingers combed up through Dean's hair then his hands slid back down to the lover's shoulders. "I will try and I promise to tell you if things start to feel weird for me. Is that enough for you?"

Dean had been hoping for some reassurance, something that would make him feel like he wasn't forcing Sam to alter his life, but he knew some things would take time. "Yeah, that's enough." He smiled softly and lifted his hands to curl along the outside of Sam's arms, gaze shifting along the panes of Sam's face to commit the moment to memory. "Thank you. I know it's a hard thing, to give up basically your whole life."

"You know - it's not always about a place." Sam gazed into Dean's eyes, loving the warmth and love he saw there. " _You_ make me happy." Sam supposed it was happy, this buzzing of energy and _want_ that was pouring into his body. "You made me happy ten years ago for just those few days and I ... I think I compared everything to that all this time." Sam's smiled faded as he dropped his eyes again, "that's kind of sad I suppose."

Nodding, Dean chuckled softly. "Don't worry. I've been doing about the same thing. You know, I was probably worse because I was trying to fool myself into thinking I could just be content and happy in that world I didn't even belong in." Dean stared down at Sam's thighs, slowly wetting his lips. "I believe in _something_ Sam, I always have. But, it's never been, it was never the way it was with my dad. I know you think I just gave in to that, that I was being what he wanted, but he never even knew. In the beginning it really was just taking a sanctuary where I could be fed and clothed and safe. Then it was just..." Dean slowly looked back up into Sam's eyes and sighed. "I know we only knew each other a few days, but all I could think was, I didn't see any point in living out in the world without you. And that lasted, through four months of anti-gay torture basically. So I knew it had to mean something. I just, I don't want you to think I was ever playing into my father's game. It wasn't that way."

"So, they hurt you in the name of ... religious belief." Sam sat back so he could take Dean's hands in his and brought them to his lips. "You know there's nothing wrong with us...with this, don't you? Does it feel wrong?" Sam had lived his entire life being just who was. It hadn't always worked out great but for the most part Sam had just believed what he believed and that was how he lives.

Squeezing Sam's hands, Dean shook his head slowly. "I don't think this is wrong. Not now. I mean, in the beginning I did. And I thought maybe I really was as dirty as my dad suggested but, time has taught me some lessons. And it's not something I worry about anymore." Dean couldn't resist leaning forward to brush his lips against Sam's. "How could something that feels so good be wrong? In my entire life, you're the only person I ever loved. That couldn't possibly be a bad thing." Dean's smile softened, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he looked down.

Frowning as he smiled Sam moved their hands to tip Dean's chin up higher. "I'm pretty sure I've never cared about anyone else." Eyes moving across the cluster of freckles on Dean's cheeks Sam smiled thoughtfully. "So all that stuff I told you," blinking he moved his gaze back up to Dean's, "in the confessional..."

Shaking his head once more Dean chuckled softly. "We can talk about your dad, and all of that if you want, but I think it's probably okay if we leave the pieces involving us back there. What you said, it was the truth and I appreciate that, and I won't be holding it against you or anything. So, really, it's okay." Dean dipped forward until their foreheads could brush together. "Though I suppose this should be the moment where you said anything else you felt needed to be."

"I just," Sam shrugged a shoulder, "said some pretty shitty things. Just 'cause they were the truth doesn't mean I should have said them." Brow furrowing, Sam pushed up off the chair and slung his leg over the back so he could shove Dean down on the bed and fling and arm and leg over him. Sam hadn't said it out loud but his current favourite thing was holding Dean in his arms like he _belonged_ to him. Nuzzling against Dean's ear Sam whispered, "I never really hated you."

"That's nice to hear." Dean admitted and sighed softly, settling into Sam's warmth. This was rapidly going to become his new favourite place to be. "Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?" Sam brushed the tip of his nose against Dean's cheek and tugged him closer.

Dean smiled and closed his eyes, turning until his lips could brush against Sam's. "If we get a cat can we get a puppy at the same time and name them Milo and Otis?" He grinned even brighter and opened his eyes to meet Sam's.

Sam laughed and shook his head in amusement. "You can name _your_ cat whatever you want. And you can name _my_ dog because I love you."

"Sounds fair," Dean nodded and pushed up to catch Sam's lips in a lingering kiss.


End file.
